


a real hero (and a real human being)

by Utopiste



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Awesome Natasha Romanov, Domestic Avengers, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Mostly Marvel Cinematic Universe compliant, Multi, Natasha is the one who truly keeps the team together, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony and Steve are terrible father figures, basically the young avengers come into the mcu, steve and tony are terrible exes but guess what bitch. communication solves things, watch me slowly turn mcu clint into comics clint i DARE you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-05-23 16:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14938091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Utopiste/pseuds/Utopiste
Summary: “That’s a nice offer,” Kate says, “but I already have my own dysfunctional family, thank you very much. I don’t need assassins, Disney Princesses and the World’s Most Awkward Divorced Dads for that.”Steve starts sputtering, but Tony chooses to embrace the title, because it’s his brand and he needs to own it. “I mean, you would get a paid internship, selfies with Thor, and a bunch of free clothes and guns,” he says.“Wait, paid?” Billy asks like it’s the best day of his whole life, which it is. “Nevermind - selfies with Thor?”In which the Avengers adopt a bunch of delinquents with varying levels of success, Natasha is smarter than everyone else, Peter gets more friends, Billy is a gay mess, MJ is a gay mess, Steve is a gay-Oh, and Kate is the better Hawkeye, but that’s nothing new.





	1. love in america

**Author's Note:**

> Celebrating Father's Day by giving the Avengers some more children, because you need to be the change you want to see in the world
> 
> I would DIE for Louise who helps my dumbass French self and texts me back when I ask her existential Marvel questions at midnight when "i can't read your fic right now because i'm drunk and getting pierced but i'll read it tmrw i swear i'll be a good beta" and Gabi (mrsgombember) who. Is my one true love in general and agreed to an early fall wedding we'll send you the invite
> 
> Find me at ravenclaw-power-bottom on Tumblr and dodieravenclark on Twitter, I'll be the one crying about Tommy Shepherd

Billy doesn’t remember when he started having a crush on Teddy.

(That’s a lie. It was the second time Nate, Teddy and him met up, and Teddy bumped onto his table when he walked into the café. At that time, Teddy just had this impressive growth spurt, and it was like he didn’t know what to do with all the flesh and muscle on his body yet. Anyway, Teddy bumped into his table, and stopped walking, and sent him a sheepish smile, and rubbed his neck with his left hand, and said, “Oh, sorry”, and Billy remembers all of this in great detail, as well as he remembers thinking that oh my god, hot blonde guy from Tumblr looked like a sexy cowboy, oh my god he was so _gay_.)

Anyway, Billy doesn’t remember when he started having an embarrassing, nerd crush on Teddy, or that’s what he would say if anyone called him out on it, which they never did. He had become very good at hiding his desperate crushes over the years. Especially his crushes on tall, blonde, gorgeous, probably straight jocks who happened to be his teammates in a secret superheroes (kinda) team up (or, well, more of a regular get-together for coffee, actually). It didn’t matter what the official name for it was, since it was the coolest group of somehow friendly people he had ever been part of.

Like many things in Billy’s life, it started, unsurprisingly, with Tumblr.

His hand had hovered on his laptop. This could be the real deal. Then again, it could be just some troll, inventing weird stuff to attract desperate people and then posting their messages online to ruin the last safe place Billy had.

(At fifteen, Billy was quite dramatic. To be fair, he still is at seventeen.)

But he knew ironlad. Not well, really; they had been mutuals for a few months though, bonded over Avengers and comics once or twice. Was it enough to confide his biggest secret to someone?

He looked at the rest of ironlad’s profile. Their blog name was a Star Wars reference ( _the very thing you swore to destroy_ ), which probably meant they weren’t secretly a Russian spy, but who knew these days. Went back five, six, eleven pages on their blog, even. The profile pic seemed to mock him somehow. Then Billy went back to the post. God, he hated it when people said, “Sokovia”, like it meant everything. Like it wasn’t a country, just some other tragedy the Avengers prevented (or caused, if you listened to Fox News, but who listened to Fox News anyway). He knew it was dumb - it just irked him.

But he went back to the post, and found somebody had already reblogged it.

****

He had never seen that username before - he would have remembered. He scrolled up pages and pages of the new guy’s blog. Whoever they were, they’d been on Tumblr for a while. And they never talked to ironlad before (or to anybody on the website, really; there was barely any personal content on their blog). It was unlikely to be some elaborate ploy, Billy rationalized, because who would put that much time and care into a prank?

He looked at the post once again, twice again. The avatar was still the same old-school drawing of Iron Man talking. _Hey, listen, friend: very few people on this crazy planet are lucky enough to have the advantages you and I have. That obligates us to use those advantages!_ Billy didn’t personally know Tony Stark, but he was pretty sure he never gave this kind of advice. He didn’t seem like the type.

_That obligates us to use those advantages!_

 

**ironlad**

_posts about #teamtonystark and #omg_

hey. it’s a bit weird to send this but. yeah. same, dude

you too?? shit

do you have discored

*discord

hum yeah sure!

ok do you want to be on the groupchat with t and i?

(he doesn’t want weird people from the internet to know his name apparently. wild)

(I’m nate btw)

lmao can’t imagine why

i’m billy :)

After that, things had gone pretty quick. Billy was added to the group chat, which would later be renamed, by his suggestion, _the avengers tower, but millennial_. Nate had answered something in the line of “mmh talk for yourself old man, i’m gen z fight me” and, more importantly, Teddy laughed at that. (Well, he guesses he did. “lmaoooooo” and keyboard smashing weren’t really the same as hearing Teddy’s timid chuckle in real life, which he would, a few weeks later, once they were all convinced this wasn’t some very elaborate setup. And obviously, Billy blushed like a nerd.)

They even had alter egos prepared. Since Sokovia’s events, no one had seen Thor, nor Hulk, and with Billy’s electricity and hulkling’s selective shapeshifting powers (which seemed to prefer green and vaguely monstrous, for some reason), the choice was made easily. They didn’t understand what ironlad did anyway, but they had time.

Except Nate disappeared.

 

*******

 

With Peter gone home to his pretty aunt and Rhodey on a date, Tony finally has an evening to enjoy his favorite hobby. (He calls it a hobby, some would call day drinking, but who are they to tell him how to live his life?)

He has a certain flair in doing so. He places himself in front of one of those gorgeous, gigantic glass windows that cover half the wall, facing towards the forest surrounding the compound. He has a glass of single malt that he holds expertly, all amber with a few ice cubes in because he’s not an animal, thank you very much, and it’s a very good whiskey, worth more than Peter’s future college tuition. (Actually, it is not, because college fees in the United States are, as one knows, ridiculously expensive, but let us imagine it was, for the imagery.) He’s in a sharply tailored suit, instead of the dirty band tee-shirt he was sporting a few hours before, and he pretends to be a man of taste who appreciates the taste of the finest drinks, instead of someone with a steady addiction and a row of alcohol-related bad decisions.

Here’s a secret about Tony Stark: contrary to popular belief, he has absolutely no taste in distillery. Sure, he can appreciate the difference between a hundred dollar bottle and some wine you just bought at the Indian deli down the street, but that’s about all. So, yeah. He doesn’t exactly drink fine whiskey for the taste of it.

Back when they were all here, Tony didn’t drink this much - just the regular beer with friends. They had a system, the Old Avengers, whenever they were at the Tower, checking up on each other to make sure everyone took their meds and didn’t do anything too dumb, like drinking themselves numb (Tony), forgetting to sleep (all of them) or digging up every information they could find on their friends’ deaths in one afternoon and then being surprised when it ended up in depression (Steve). Now Rhodey’s here, of course, but he’s just one person and Tony has been told he is very high maintenance.

It’s still better than it used to be though. He remembers (or, in some instances, barely does) his thirties, before Iron Man, and even for a while after that. And the year he thought he was dying, and Rhodey and Pepper were giving up on him, and he had to drink these _disgusting_ green shakes. He thinks that it isn’t good, not yet, but it could be getting there, with Rhodes staying around. T’Challa too once in a while, maybe, since he said he would bring his little sister for a holiday (“I seem to have promised her Coachella when I was distracted with being literally resurrected”, he said, eyes twinkling, “but I think she’s just as excited by a merge between nanotech and vibranium.” Tony answered that it wasn’t possible, and stoic T’Challa outright laughed at him). May Parker finally accepted playdates with her nephew. Even Bruce comes and goes like he used to, dropped in by Thor whenever he has a moment. And well, there’s Pepper, like always.

It’s not like it used to be. The Compound still remains empty more days than not. Even with the renegade Avengers back in the open, Tony’s work stays - lonely. He also doesn’t have the constant, paranoid fear of a great, purple, raisin-looking man coming down from the sky, because it already happened, nor does he have to constantly hide this very fear from his friends, like he used to.

So this is where he’s at when it happens: drinking whiskey in the most exquisitely theatrical way, thinking about making the Spider-suit’s nanotech faster somehow and whether or not to check that Steven World thing Peter told him about or if it would be yet another meme. (The latter would ruin his street cred, and he would never admit it publicly, ever. Already embarrassing enough making _SpongeBob_ references in front of the wizards.)

Then two master assassins sneak out from the shadows of the room. (Which, since it’s a very empty, open-space kitchen, is impressive.)

“Boss! I’m so sorry!” Friday says. He can see her floundering around on his sunglasses - the poor kid’s panicked. “It’s a level four intrusion - I don’t know how I didn’t see them-”

“Not gonna lie, the fact that we’re only on level four kind of hurts my feelings,” Clint calls out. “I may be retired, but I’m still a goddamn _Avenger_.”

 

***

 

Neither Billy nor Teddy knows where Nate went once he was gone. He just never logged on Discord again, then he stopped posting on Tumblr, too. And they don’t even know him, really - they only met twice in real life. For all they know, maybe the guy never even had any real power, maybe it was some elaborate hoax, and the threat looming over them that he kept talking nonsense about was just that: nonsense.

But Billy is a boy raised in a world of aliens and gods, with enough pop culture under his belt to be genre savvy in situations like this. So he doesn’t really believe any of that.

So this is how it goes: Billy and Teddy have an Internet friend to rescue, a mysterious and ominous threat, three layers of unspoken sexual tension, and they need to suit up and save the day.

This is how, almost two years after that fateful Tumblr post, he finds himself shooting lightning at his crush by accident.

Well, it was mostly an accident. This evening’s program is walking across New York, stopping petty crimes and just trying to be coordinated overall. It doesn’t go that well - sure, crime has risen again since the Snap, but still, 2018, post-Spider-Man New York isn’t all that eventful. People are apathetic these days, and a general sense of doom hangs over the city, like they are all just waiting for the moment where another spaceship comes down and finishes the job. It’s like the atmosphere is so heavy it’s getting harder to breathe, or maybe it’s just the sticky, hot summer weather smothering them. But Billy doesn’t think so. It has gone beyond the sort of weariness that took over when the Avengers first parted and never left (“saddest band breakup since One Direction”, Teen Weekly wrote, and Billy hopes it was ironical, but since there was an article ranking the hottest superheroes right after, he isn’t so sure). It’s desperation.

So, there was this one half-hearted grocery store robbery that they stopped immediately. The guy got slightly stung by one of Billy’s weird electricity arcs, said “hell _no_ , not _another_ vigilante, for fuck’s sake” and ran through the back door. Billy accidentally melted the whole dairy aisle (god he hoped the grocery lady had insurance), and also Teddy’s shirt, trying to catch him again.

It _was_ an accident. He just doesn’t regret it.

“I mean, if it’s any comfort, for a first patrol as a team, sparks _were_ flying,” Teddy says like the sad, lame nerd he is.

“Oh my Stark,” Billy groans, mortified, because he’s also a sad, lame nerd.

They’re sitting on the roof of a building not too far from the crime scene, from where they can watch the police coming in and writing down the grocery lady’s complaints on a notepad, visibly weary even as tiny, Lego-sized men on the ground. Both Teddy and Billy’s legs are dangling off the roof, brushing against each other every so often as Teddy inspects his wound (only a burn, and as his skin shifts under his hands it heals, but Billy still feels bad about it, when he’s not feeling so madly _happy_ he could start singing Taylor Swift lyrics).

Teddy does this usual shy smile he has before he says something terribly corny and adds: “Alright, Asgardian, you’re right, maybe _starks_ are flying.”

“Oh my god you are the _worst_ , I’m quitting the team. Try to be the Avengers without Thor,” Billy whines.

“Didn’t they spend a few years without him though? Like, he went back to Asgard for a while, didn’t he?” Teddy says, all fake innocence.

“Don’t be a smartass, it’s not even a hundred percent sure that Asgard is a thing, you know I read that article about how it was all some publicity stunt-”

“Oh, it’s real,” Teddy confirms. He’s done, so he digs around in their backpack until he finds another T-shirt to put on, and Billy barely has time to be disappointed before Teddy settles his head on his shoulder, and his heart skips a beat. Teddy’s hair smells like vanilla shampoo, sweat and, well, smoke. Not that Billy notices, because the other guy is straight. He is his straight teammate and one of his best friends, who’s just trying to save their other friend. Just two guys being bros. Teddy picks up the conversation again: “And you’re not talking about an article, it’s just something a guy posted on Tumblr. I literally saw you reblog it.”

Billy would be annoyed, but it’s Teddy, and that means he reads his Tumblr even if it’s half _Solo_ hype since the movie came out, and also Billy just referenced a post made by someone called spider-mans-bubble-butt, so really, he can’t be mad. Instead he asks, “What do _you_ know?”

There’s a beat, then Teddy says very seriously, “Cause I’ve been there,” and Billy pauses only for one second (if anyone he knows is going to be demigod, it’s Teddy) before he laughs.

“Right,” he says. “Hope you said hi to Leia on the way.”

“Don’t talk about Mrs. Carrie Fisher like that, it’s too soon,” Teddy whines.

“It’s been two years,” Billy notes.

“Just yesterday, you told me you think of, quote unquote, “the actual boss of space” everyday, and that if she was still alive, Donald Trump wouldn’t be president.”

“And I speak only _facts_.”

“You’re a drama queen,” Teddy says, his voice serious but his eyes warm.

“That, my friend, is just homophobic,” Billy states, and insists when he laughs at him, “that’s true! Being dramatic is gay culture. I will not let myself be-”

He doesn’t know what he’s going to not let himself be, because he didn’t think that far, and neither of them will ever know the end of that sentence, because right then, a voice says from behind, “When I heard the OG Avengers were back in town, I thought they’d be a little less awful.”

 

***

 

Steve dusts off the plaque on the wire netting, then barely glances at it - _DANGER: Unauthorized persons get out_ , like that ever changed anything for him - and rips out the whole thing. You’d have thought the netting would have at least been electrified.

“Here. Now we can get in.”

Sam looks away from Steve to the rest of the crew: Jessica is rolling her eyes far enough to see stars and Bucky seems constipated, which is always what he looks like, if you ask Sam. The disgruntled PI, the depressed war veteran, the annoyed murder bot, and some guy who pretends he’s a bird. They truly make for a fine team.

“Sure, because we can _just_ get in Area 51,” Jessica snarks, but she still walks through the hole in the fence anyway. For all she bitched about how “coming with you on a suicide mission isn’t what I was fucking paid for,” she’s pretty cool about possibly dying in a sewer to get to an alien.

Steve ignores her and shoulders through, which is probably the wisest choice with Jones. The place is empty with this kind of surreal, absolute silence that you only hear in horror movies before the black guy gets jumped or when you come in at weird enough hours at night that the subway is empty. Sam doesn’t have a MetroCard anymore and he doesn’t feel like dying first for shock value, so he sticks close to the group as they walk through the dead, prickly grass. The sun sets and the air feels heavy.

When they get to the building, there’s no guard at the door. Steve doesn’t stop, because Steve is a dumbass.

“So that’s not weird at all,” Sam comments, but he still goes in after him anyway, because Sam is also a dumbass.

Bucky leaves silently, probably to circle the perimeter for other points of entry like any sane military man, which shows how much progress he and Steve have made that they can be separated while waiting to meet guys who will shoot at them. The therapist in Sam is glad, but the guy who doesn’t want to die and would rather have all the super soldiers he can watching his back isn’t. Jessica does a weird hand sign, jumps, really high, and doesn’t come back down again. She might be climbing up the place, or she might have decided the money’s not worth it and ditched them. It’s fifty/fifty.

“Only you and me, buddy,” Sam whispers in the hallway that is, guess what, empty and silent. “Me and you. Bros for life.”

It’s even creepier because it’s entirely tiled and white - not just the floor, but the walls and ceiling too. He points it out to Steve, only to get a “Probably to wash the blood more easily.”

“Well then why the hell are there still bloodstains everywhere anyway,” Sam grumbles.

“Cleaning crew’s on lunch break?” Steve says. Little shit.

The blood is not even all human: there’s also weirdly colored alien goo, what the hell. But this is Sam’s life now, so they keep walking down one creepy silent hallway after another. In five minutes they only meet about three guards. One of them is knocked out already, courtesy of one Bucky Barnes, who smiles proudly like the world’s most murderous puppy. (“Good job not killing him,” Sam says, and Bucky frowns and answers “Good job not getting killed”, which is fair.) One of them is running away for some reason and knocks himself out while knocking into them. And the last one, well. Let’s just say Steve doesn’t take too well to concentration camps, even if it’s for extraterrestrials.

There are all kinds of weird rooms that they take a look at, with machines and computers and the rare coffee break room, but they don’t reach the real deal until they go down that flight of stairs and Jessica pops up next to them.

“How did you even get here,” Bucky asks, and she takes pleasure in ignoring him.

“Looks like your little rescue mission is a bit too late,” she answers instead, and kicks the door open, because if vigilantes have one thing in common with superheroes, it’s the dramatics.

Behind the door are cell after cell after cell, for longer that Sam can see, and the doors are all open. “How the-”

Some discreet (but not enough for two very old super soldiers, apparently) noise startles Bucky and Steve from the hallway they just left, and Steve raises his shield just in time to-

Get thrown across the freaking hallway by a spiky boot. And if that’s what happens when the boot touches _Captain America_ with his raised _vibranium_ shield, then Sam really does _not_ want to get into a fight with that chick.

That, and she’s the angriest-looking girl he’s ever seen, and he’s met Natasha. And Wanda. And Okoye. (He should revise his taste in women.) All wild, messy hair that gets out of her ponytail and raised gloved fists and frowned, thick eyebrows and American flag jean jacket on a jean short. She reminds him of someone he can’t really pin down, until Steve says, “You can throw one hell of a punch, kid, but I’m not really in the mood for this today,” and Bucky answers, “Since when are you ever not in the mood for this, punk,” and alright, that’s who.

“You really shouldn’t get into a fight with Captain America, the guy doesn’t have two sidekicks for no reason,” Jessica warns (surprising that she’s still there). Sam wants to take offense at the sidekick thing, but there’s time for that later. Right now, angry girl gets even angrier.

“Who the hell is Captain, and how do you know my name?” the girl snarls. It confuses Steve into dropping his shield slightly, which is a mistake, because it’s not just the boots, the girl’s got a mean right hook too.

But Steve is a maniac, so he grins at being pinned to the wall and doesn’t fight back. “Hey, America. Nice to meet you. I’m the Captain. So you like kicking things, uh?”

“Kids these days and their kicking,” Bucky complains with his machine gun pointed on the girl, because there’s no kill like overkill when you hang out with Russia’s greatest love machine.

 

***

 

“You break into my house and then you complain about it? Who raised you?” Tony says, and he fiddles with his phone to calm down his girl, not because he trusts these guys all that much these days, but because if they wanted him dead, it would already be done by now. “So, is it just you being dicks, which doesn’t surprise me from Clint - oh well, who am I kidding, from either of you - or is this creepy, silent approach the way of every ninja spy on enemy territory?”

Natasha is quieter. “Hey, Tony.”

He doesn’t turn around, because he has a trembling hand to hide and emotions to conceal, but if he is to guess, she’s smiling.

“So. Just tell me where the aliens are.”

“Why is it that every time we come over it’s gotta be about aliens? Can’t we just hang out with a few beers, shoot some fake people on that giant TV screen I just know you’re hiding somewhere in this place, and sneak in your bedroom to steal your jewelry?” Clint answers.

It’s so much like old times that Tony chuckles - it’s mirthless. And also, because he’s a petty man, he wonders, “Welp, didn’t think you’d wanna play shooting games with me anymore. What was it again? _You gotta watch your back with this guy, there’s chance he’s gonna break it?_ Not really sniper buddy material, is it?”

“Meeeh, watch, smatch,” Clint says, all carelessness, because that’s how he deals with feelings, and can Tony blame him, really. “That was at least three apocalypses ago, there’s water under the bridge and all that.”

There’s a lull in the conversation.

“Listen.” It’s Natasha. “The past years were eventful, to say the least.”

“We were all awful. Fucking dicks, man,” Clint translates.

“Yes. We were all awful. And Tony, I’m not going to tell you about how we said things we didn’t mean, or we had - communication issues.” Understatement of the year. “We were all - lying to each other, some of us moreso, and fighting, and betraying, and staying years without talking because of some stupid grudges.”

Ok, this one is fair. It’s almost like an apology - the closest to one any of them is able to do at least. Tony’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but this is not what she says.

“You remember when we first met and I stuck a needle in your throat?”

Tony actually flat out laughs at that. “Yes, a deeply cherished memory of mine, really.”

“We were supposed to be a family,” Natasha adds softly, and that’s what takes him by surprise.

So, that’s the other shoe. It almost makes Tony turn around. “Well, I don’t know about yours, Superspy, but it sure sounds exactly like something mine would do.”

Clint snorts, which Natasha gracefully ignores. “I was an orphan raised to be a murder doll, Tony. That’s irrelevant. Do you remember the beginning of the Initiative?”

He wants to talk about the report she gave, the “Iron Man: yes. Tony Stark: no,” because - yeah, once again, he’s that petty. She’s not the greatest manipulator on Earth for nothing, though, because she keeps going. “We’d go destroy some HYDRA bases, maybe chase off aliens in our busy days, and then we’d go back to the tower and you’d all nap or get wasted while I filmed blackmail material that Steve ‘I’m not bitter because I can’t get drunk anymore, I’m just responsible’ Rogers made me delete. It was good.”

“Apart from the constant life-threatening danger and injuries, of course,” Tony quips.

“Or was it because of the constant life-threatening danger and injuries?” Clint says.

So, ok, that’s funny. Tony laughs. Clint laughs, because he always laughs at his own jokes. Even Natasha gives a slight, sweet chuckle. He remembers why he got along so well with Barton - for all his inability to face seriousness for one second, he was good at making the team feel more like a team, and less like - a timebomb.

But that’s the thing - it was a timebomb, and Tony just turns towards them (finally; he sees Natasha changed her hair again, a softer, almost strawberry blonde red this time), sits down on some ridiculously modern and uncomfortable chair, and sighs.

“Listen. I’m serious. I can’t keep doing this. Not to Pepper, not to Rhodey - god, not even to the kid,” he remembers. “I just can’t. And even if they weren’t in the picture. I’m not thirty anymore. Hell, I’m not even _fifty_ . My bones don’t heal the same. Do you know I have a sore back when I wake up most mornings? God, I feel like my old man. And that’s not even talking about my heart, fuck, as if it wasn’t bad enough already between the drugs and the bomb and the _anxiety_.”

He doesn’t know what to expect. Maybe he’s expecting a bit of a fight, a _we need Iron Man_ , he’s expecting them to cut down his monologue, to tell him to stop being so whiny, to put his shit together even, but Natasha sits slowly next to him and  looks at him like she understand when she says, soft, “This isn’t what this is about.”

“Oh, really?” Tony says, voice filled with sardony and venom. The moment is over. “This is just a courtesy call then? Catching up with your old friend slash sugar daddy?”

“I mean, I’m never saying no to getting showered in money and cool new arrows,” Clint quips.

“Not helping,” Natasha says, eyes still fixated on Tony.

“When am I ever?”

“Look, when we were in the War - the Civil War, I mean,” Natasha corrects. “I told Steve,” Tony winces at the name, but she powers through, “I told Steve, it doesn’t matter how we stay together, as long as we do. I was wrong.”

“Very comforting, Natasha. Is that what they teach you in spy school?”

“No, listen to me. No funny, snarky deflection for a minute, alright? It did matter how we stayed together. And more importantly, we never should have had to choose between staying together and doing things right - no matter what doing things right meant back then. We should have had a common vision, the same end goal, and if nothing else, we should at least have been able to talk.” She pauses before the final blow: “We were never going to be good enough.”

For a few seconds, they’re all silent.

“That’s a cold way to put it, but she’s right. We were never superheroes. Damn, we weren’t even always friends. But we can find people who are. Actually - Nat and I, we already did.”

“Are you telling me people who could have done better than us were here all this time?” Tony says. “Damn, where the _hell_ were they hiding when they were _fucking_ needed, then, because I’d for one would _sure_ like to _know_.”

“Well, one of them was staying in a crappy, cramped flat in Queens, for one,” Natasha says.

“You are not dragging my- Peter, into this mess. He stays out of whatever the hell this is,” Tony starts, and she’s got it all wrong, she must have lost her touch, because if there’s one thing he won’t let them use, it’s him.

“Oh, because he’s gonna stay safely at home like a good boy if you just ask him to, then? Sure, that’s likely,” Clint sneers. “I’ve got one of these and I can already tell you that’s not gonna work.”

“He shouldn’t be in this mess, it’s an adult mess, the kid still wears pajamas with our faces on them-”

“There are other kids like him,” Natasha cuts.

“Idiots?” Tony asks.

She chuckles again, and some of the tension disappears. “Yes, actually. Idiots in spandex trying to save their neighbourhood or the like. Rushing into danger they don’t know anything about with no training, no proper gear, nothing. Remind you of someone?”

Tony pauses. But he’ll never admit to Natasha’s face that she might have a point, might have him hooked, because he knows her face when she turns out to be right, like the cat who got the mice. “So what are you saying, we just go to their place all _Pretty Woman_ , sugar daddy style and offer them cool costumes?”

“Not quite,” Natasha smirks, because screw Captain America, she’s the star-spangled Russian spy with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The profile pic Billy is refering to comes from these panels: https://cdn.pastemagazine.com/www/system/images/photo_albums/capironman/large/solidadvice.png?1384968217
> 
> The after credit scene: Clint finally gets to play sniper games on the big TV, and we’re all proud of him. (If Tony ends up hacking the game so that he can stop losing, goddamnit, are you even human, then it’s just good old team bonding, alright?)
> 
> (The after after credit scene: Billy and Teddy sharing an ice cream on a “secret team meeting”, because they’re COMMITTED AVENGERS. Just two men sharing an ice cream 0 feet apart because they’re so gay.)


	2. bubblegum bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Avengers Fail-Safe Program is definitely launched, Kate arrives 20 minutes late with Starbucks, the Avengers have one, two, three group chats, and a few star-spangled superheroes appear.  
> (Also, a reference to a very iconic Steve/Tony fanfic is made, and another to Gabi’s comments on the Young Avengers volume 1 comics.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal reminder: a bill that will infringe tougher copyright restrictions on the Internet, and yes, CAN impact fanfictions, fanarts, and basically everything related to the media you like, is currently being passed in the EU. If you live in the EU, it might be the time to check out this site: https://www.saveyourinternet.eu/ and see what you can do to stop it. (If you don’t I might never update this anymore again and you’LL KNOW WHY) (I’m not being dramatic) (alright i’m being a little dramatic)
> 
> I honestly wish I could post these with Louise (@isakatlife on Twitter) and Gabi's (@MrsGombember) comments because 1) they're hilarious 2) they make the fic 200% better.

**The Better Avengers**

_ Clint Barton, Natalie Rushman, Tony Stark _

**Clint:** you want to know her what now

**Tony:** You know. The tragic backstory. The horrible thing that happened that made that chick go, oh you know what’s a fun extracurricular? Running around in spandex shooting stuff

**Clint:** ho w did you type all of that in twenty seconds

**Tony:** Magic fingers 

**Tony:** Innuendo intended

**Clint:** uugggggh

**Tony:** Question still stands though

**Tony:** Weasley?

**Natalie:** sorry, I was busy working on some stuff

**Clint:** uh oh who died

**Natalie:** more like how many

**Natalie:** ;)

**Tony:** Being in a groupchat with you two is. Terrifying. Punctuation for emphasis

**Natalie:** anyway you should ask clint she’s his recruit after all

**Tony:** What the hell couldn’t you tell me that earlier old man

**Clint:** sorry. i don’t care

**Clint:** the worst she ever had it was probably having her main credit card cut off by daddy dearest tbh. or wearing the same dress as her frenemy at a birthday party

**Natalie:** or having her burn book be revealed to the whole school and causing a riot

**Tony:** Was that... A Mean girls reference?

**Natalie:** I don’t see what you’re talking about :)

**Tony:** Alright I won’t insist because, to be frank, you scare me

**Natalie:** :)

**Tony:** god make it stop

**Tony:** Also how is real life Regina George our first pick to make a superhero team 

**Natalie:** mh yes that’s true. tell me tony what was the worst thing that ever happened to you at eighteen again?

**Tony:** Touché.

_ (Clint Barton is typing...) _

 

The thing was, Clint Barton wasn’t wrong about Kate. She was, by all accounts, a charismatic, yet spoiled teenager, and probably not what you’d think of when you thought “superhero material”. The most traumatic event in her life was being assaulted in Central Park that one time, sure, but she had come out of it with nothing but scraps and bruises, and even then they were more on her ego than her body. The helplessness, though - that’s what had gotten to her. 

Realizing all of a sudden that this feeling had been there all of her life in some way or another, whether it was “stand still, look pretty” or “get on the ground, hands behind your back, give me all your money”... Well, let’s just say it was not the most comforting thought. It would usually not be enough to drive a person to put on some thighs and become as deadly as a normal, non enhanced human could be, but Kate was not like most other people. 

So where does one even begin to describe Kate Bishop?

Well, Kate (Katherine, full name, as only her father calls her) is eighteen, daddy’s precious girl, barely out of high school, and always looks straight out of some Outfit Of The Day Instagram post. (Actually, her account is close to 10k. Check it out.) You can always find her shooting arrows, getting Starbucks, or disappointing her parents, sometimes all at once. 

And right now, she is doing exactly that, one nonfat, iced Mocha with light ice, whipped cream, and chocolate drizzle sitting, half drunk,  on the table next to her, her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other, ignoring the persistent buzzing of her phone. Most probably some plot relevant event is happening in Rich People World, like Harry Osborn’s seventeenth birthday or such. In any case, she doesn’t care. She’s shooting things. Today, unsurprisingly, she looks like a fashion vlogger, wearing  one of these white crop tops with the thin straps every clothes store is showcasing these days, and checkered pants, despite them not being weather appropriate, at all. So here is how we introduce Kate Bishop: young, moderately rebellious, a little lost, very spoiled. 

This is also how her father finds her an hour later as he enters the courtyard. By that time the green, perfectly mowed lawn is empty, even of employees, the sun sets slowly behind her, and the targets are so full of arrows one wonders how she can still shoot them. 

Just as her father thinks this, Kate’s latest arrow flies, and slices one of its siblings right in the middle of the target. He would be impressed if he wasn’t annoyed with his daughter’s antics.

“Katherine,” he says with a sigh. Kate braces herself for what comes next - berating her about being the heiress to his business, again? Taking away her credit card?

She’s not ready for his, “I heard about Columbia. We need to talk.”

Ah, yes. Turning down an Ivy League college can have this effect on parents.

 

***

 

_ Natalie Rushman created: AFSP _

_ Natalie Rushman added Clint Barton to the conversation _

_ Natalie Rushman added Jessica Jones to the conversation _

_ Natalie Rushman added James Rhodes to the conversation _

_ Natalie Rushman added Steve Rogers to the conversation _

_ Natalie Rushman added Tony Stark  to the conversation _

_ Natalie Rushman added Sam Wilson to the conversation _

**Natalie Rushman:** Hello all,

This is the official conversation for the AFSP Initiative. Only relevant information to the initiative will be relayed through this safe network. You will have to re-enter your password every time, and if I can hack it (which I will do.) I will change it myself to a safer, yet much more embarrassing, one. You were warned. Be professional.

 

*** 

 

**The Non-Powered Avengers, thus most badass (and an old man)**

_ Clint is the old man, James Rhodes, Natalie Rushman, Tony Stank _

**Tony Stank:** I understand why Rogers has to be involved but is making a group chat really necessary 

**James:** motion seconded 

**Tony Stank:** Half of us are gonna live in the same house anyway

**James:** motion not seconded, what the hell, why didn’t you tell me

**Tony Stank:** I didn’t think you’d be interested?

**James:** _ i live in this house, tony _

**Natalie:** if you want Earth to be safe, you need the kids to survive long enough to save it

**Natalie:** if you want the kids to survive long enough to save it, you need to give them the best training available

**Natalie:** if you want to give them the best training available, you need to have a semi stable work relationship with steve and the others 

**James:** so in short, the fate of the universe lies on tony being mostly functional around his ex? oh we’re fucked

**Tony Stank:** Steve is not my ex. 

**Clint is the old man:** isn’t he tho

**Natalie:** clint, don’t be an asshole

**Clint is the old man:** you’re asking for a LOT of me rn and i don’t like it

 

***

 

Turns out, Eli is an evil tyrant, yet probably their only chance of finding Nate, and Teddy regrets all of his life choices.

This might not make a lot of sense right now. Let’s try again: that evening, two weeks ago (or one chapter, depending on which reality your live in), on the roof, Teddy is about to finally ask Billy out, after two years of silent pining. Maybe more than two years, if you count that Billy has been Teddy’s Tumblr crush ever since he posted that cute selfie where he was dressed in all red and wrote “i’m scarlet witch’s #1 fanboy, fight me”. 

It’s the perfect afternoon. He is almost sure he saw Billy discreetly checking him out when his shirt got burnt, the sky is sunny and clear, they’re laughing about Star Wars. And at worst, if (when) Billy (inevitably) turns him down, he can pretend it was just the adrenaline rush, and cause only moderate awkwardness. 

Then Eli arrives from behind them like the most annoying ninja Teddy ever met, and criticizes everything from their costumes to their combat strategy, or lack thereof. After he basically destroys them and their self esteem, he says, “You’re in serious need of an upgrade, and someone who knows what they’re doing. Lucky for you, I’m both.”

Oh, yes, because Eli is not just Eli at that point, he’s dressed from head to toe in his Patriot costume. He is not that well-known a vigilante, compared to, say, Daredevil. Social media just noticed him once or twice, one time fighting a drug dealer, which seems to be his main activity, and one time stopping a policeman who was trying to  to arrest a crying black kid in school uniform, the video of which went viral. 

All in all, he’s not famous or cool enough for them to go full-on fanboys, and he sounds young, as young as them maybe, so they don’t really appreciate the criticism from a guy who has throwing stars and does the Naruto run. (Not that they know the latter yet; they learn about the Naruto run a few days after that. Billy has to stop the patrol to lie down because he’s laughing too hard. Eli yells and storms out by jumping on a freaking car and they don’t see him until two days after that. It’s totally worth it.)

“So, you like anime or something?” Teddy asks to make conversation. They’re staking out an old warehouse based on Eli’s “guy”’s advice. It’s a bad idea on so many levels. 

Being teenage boys, it doesn’t stop them.

More specifically, Eli’s mysterious “guy” looked into Nate’s disappearance, and came up short. Not because there weren’t clues or anything, mind you, but because not only did Nate vanish out of nowhere, he also appeared out of thin air. There is no real record of him before his thirteenth birthday, and then he just - was. It’s uncanny.

And the people they’re about to meet in the ugly, abandoned building they’re standing on are linked to a mob that was seen at the last place Nate was - apparently - before he… Slipped out of existence. So here they are, bored, waiting, lying on top of a glass roof, under New York’s night sky (which is to say, a kind of oppressing, greyish, purplish fog reflecting the gas and pollution and artificial lights all over the city, with the moon nowhere to be seen). They’re trying very hard to look inconspicuous even though one of them is big and green, the other is dressed like a teenage ninja who made his costume out of his school’s American flag (which is actually very likely, knowing Eli), and the last one is wearing a bright red (scarlet, Billy would correct, smugly) cape with a hood covering his head. 

Yeah, what did I tell you about the  _ bad idea _ part of the plan?

Anyway, Teddy asks about anime, Patriot sends him a withering look, and he just shrugs. Billy snickers. It’s much more tense than when it used to be back when was just Teddy and Billy. 

“So what,” Eli says defensively. “Michael B. Jordan likes anime and lives with his parents, and that bothers literally nobody.”

“But Michael B. Jordan is literally the coolest, and also the second most beautiful man in the whole world, and you’re kind of… Unfriendly,” Billy pipes up.

“Wait wait wait, who’s the most beautiful man in the whole world then?” Teddy asks.

Billy blushes, stammers, and Teddy almost dies from the sheer cuteness. Usually, it would be a nice moment, but Eli groans and says, “Can you two stop being so fucking  _ gay _ ,” like it’s an insult. 

Billy’s face freezes, then crumbles before Teddy’s eyes, and he looks just like that scared, bullied kid about to get thrown into a locker he was when they first met, instead of the badass, crazy powerful witch he is - always was, if you asked Teddy, but that’s a whole other story - so Teddy turns to Eli fully and snaps.

“What, you think there’s something wrong with that?” Eli freezes, and almost looks - intimidated? “Because our superhero team rules specifically include homophobes not allowed past this point, so that would  _ really _ suck for you.”

“No! I don’t. I really don’t,” Eli insists. “Look, it was just a joke.”

There’s a pause. “Calm down, Teddy, he’s chill,” Billy says. “Look, his whole -  _ thing _ \- is that he kicks the asses of all those deadbeat, prejudicial cops. Of anyone’s prejudicial ass, really. And, you know, he can’t kick his own ass. So, you can - relax, now”

“Uh, I’m relaxed?” Teddy says, not understanding the sudden worry.

“Hulkling, you’re at least 20% greener than the usual, bigger, and spikier. So unless I have really bad eyesight, you do need to chill,” Eli states, unimpressed. Then he looks under them, through the glass of the warehouse’s roof, and says, “Actually, nevermind, if you could keep some of that gay rage right now, that’d be useful,” and  _ kicks through the roof _ .

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Billy says as he jumps after Patriot to catch him before he breaks his neck, and Teddy doesn’t even think before following him because what if he gets hurt, and oh, luckily, he’s got wings now. That’s not very Hulk-like of him.

 

***

 

As everyone can guess, Tony Stark is just a  _ delight _ in the morning.

It almost makes Natasha regret coming back to the compound, full time. (Almost. But that’s only because the Avengers compound always had just the best tea.)

But well: here they are. It’s only been three days since Natasha came back home, because she was on mission all week, and Clint has only been here for a few hours, because it was his weekend with the kids and Laura isn’t quite ready for them to live at the Avengers’ compound regularly. Which is understandable.

(Clint’s flat is a grim old thing with perpetual cold pizza smell and a three-legged dog who probably doesn’t have all of his vaccines up to date, though, so Laura is bound to change her mind about the compound at some point.)

(Not that Clint will stop eating cold pizza in the morning and hasn’t already brought Lucky “in secret” at Tony’s place, but she doesn’t know that.)

“Hellooo, party people! How are  _ you _ today? Me? I’m fine, thanks for asking. Great night of inventing, busywork, I think I can direct Stark Industries towards toaster innovation for a while, because I might have found a way to create a sentient toaster, or maybe it’s just a really accommodating one-”

Clint, still gently on the brink of death from lack of sleep with a cup of coffee the size of his head in hand, sends Natasha a look. Wordlessly, she aims with her toast (completely burnt. Thanks, Stark Industries’ accommodating sentient toaster) and hits the back of Tony’s annoying, loud face. He yelps, “not cool!” as Clint snickers. Then he sees they left him coffee in the pot, perfectly brewed as only Clint knows how to, and he says, “ugh, I knew I let you homeless assassins squat in my house for a reason, why do you never do this, Rhodey?” but mercifully doesn’t add anything to his word vomit. Rhodey just rolls his eyes, mutters something that looks a lot like  _ I’m not your maid, Stark _ , and keeps eating his scrambled eggs while reading the paper. They are all here, sitting at the breakfast table and eating food Clint made before crashing down on his chair dramatically, and it’s all incredibly domestic.

Natasha’s heart feels warm for some reason. Completely unrelated to any of the people sitting next to her, really.

It’s only a proof of her self-control and, yes, kindness, that she waits until Tony is done with his second cup of coffee and served himself some actual food to say, “it’s decaf. You need to sleep, Stark.”

“And eat something,” Rhodey adds while flipping the page to read the sports section. On the table, his phone is buzzing with texts from someone named Carol. Natasha is definitely going to look into that later.

Tony gasps. “Et tu, Brute?”

“That’s not even remotely how you pronounce Latin,” she informs him. “ _ Stultus es _ .”

“Boo-yah,” Clint groans, even as he is face down on the table and doesn’t know any Latin himself. She indulges him and starts scratching his hair softly.

“One day you need to tell me why SHIELD or the KGB or Satan himself thought Latin would be a useful skill for you to have,” Tony whines.

“It’s classified,” she answers mechanically before adding, “but it involves a whole other set of demigods than the ones we’re used to.” Rhodey looks up at that, surprised, then remembers who he’s talking to and shrugs it off. She continues. “You’re going to bed even if I have to drag you there, which I will.”

“Honeybear, you’re not even a little angry that this Russian immigrant is striding in and literally stealing your job?”

“Taking care of you is not my actual job, Tony,” Rhodes states. “And if it were, I’d  _ pay _ her to make me unemployed.”

As is to be expected, Natasha has to take the Taser out of her sleeve ( _ where were you even hiding that _ ) and point it at Tony for him to accept to crash on the couch, if not in his bed. It’s not technically  _ violent _ , because he could have asked FRIDAY to kick her out anytime, so really, she’s just being a good friend (or teammate, or colleague, she’s not sure where they stand yet, he still looks shifty around her. It does  _ not _ make her sad). And since the couches are ridiculously big and modern, and probably snuggier than Stark’s unused bed, she’ll accept it. 

After about five seconds of internal debate, Clint follows suit. The scene is sort of adorable, especially since Clint still has sharpie on his cheeks from little Nate. Rhodes takes a picture of them on his StarkPhone, and Natasha takes fifteen (for blackmail purposes, obviously, not because she likes them or anything). She sends one to Sam for good measure, so he can decide himself whether or not to show Steve, and one to James, with the caption “just babysitting some forty year old idiots, how’s your day going?”.

The later answers surprisingly fast for someone who could barely use a phone three weeks ago. “Same here. - JBB”, and then a picture of Steve, sitting on a chair with his feet propped up on the wall, drawing something and frowning at his notebook. Behind him, a young woman with a murderous glare, cross legged, who is not their  _ usual _ young woman with a murderous glare, because Wanda is nowhere to be seen since Vision’s passing (and Natasha knows she shouldn’t think about it, but god, they had come so close to getting out of Thanos’ grasp  unscathed), and she knows how to hide from them better than anyone.

“One of these two is acting like an angsty teenager. Guess who. - JBB”

She smiles.

“It’s good to have you back, Rushman,” Rhodes says. “At least with both of us here, we have a chance to maybe contain these idiots.”

He doesn’t say,  _ I’m not sure I trust you just yet, but for now, you’re doing alright, so you’re good in my book _ . He doesn’t say,  _ you’re all the most dysfunctional family around, but my best friend’s got no other family than his crazy bots, his CEO and me, so it’s better than nothing _ .

She knows what they all think about her. The ultimate spy, too many secrets to keep, too many faces to count, and you never know which one will come out. The Avengers used to think differently, once upon a time, maybe - used to see her as the person she wants to be rather than the person she is. Then she pushed her love interest from a cliff to save the day (she apologized about that, for the record) and double played all of them to try and keep her family together. She doesn’t regret it exactly, just regrets that her efforts were unsuccessful.

Now she can count on one hand the ones who trust her - Clint, Steve, Sam. Maybe Coulson. Certainly not Rhodey, or not yet, at least.

But that’s irrelevant to the mission. Natasha Romanoff has a heart, but she also knows that it is not her biggest priority at the moment.

“It’s good for now, but you know why Tony is even worse than usual,” she says instead of all of that, calmly. “Steve and the others are coming back tomorrow morning.”

 

***

 

So. You just turned down Columbia because you wanted to “find yourself” and “get out of your father’s shadow” and “figure out what you want in life”, which is as dumb as it gets, because every single 18-something year old feels the same way, it’s a tale as old as time, and you’re not that special. Your father cut you off, because your family doesn’t do healthy communication, no sir, this is not the Bishop way. What would you do?

Well, whatever the answer is, as we mentioned before, Kate Bishop really is quite extraordinary. 

“So, how often do you clean?” Glory asks, and Kate blacks out for a second, because while she knows, theoretically, that normal people do not have maids, she’s really not eager to see Glory’s face when she finds out her new roomate has never used a broom except for her Hermione Granger Halloween costume when she was fourteen.  

“Oh, come on, Ri,” Gwen says, rolling her eyes. “Kate’s a friend. No need for the whole interview thing.” 

Glory shoots her a look, dirty enough to make Kate uncomfortable, but Gwen just smiles and ignores her. “So, I have a friend who works at the coffeeshop down the street. You know how to make coffee, right?”

No. In Kate’s mind, coffee always came fresh and warm out of a Nespresso machine or a barista's hand. “Yes, of course!” she smiles, trying to make it convincing. 

“Perfect! You’ll start next week.”

“It will definitely not be enough to pay rent,” Glory grits.

“Kate is resourceful,” Gwen says, which is Gwen’s way of saying she’ll probably help out with her share, because she’s just that nice. Kate’s heart swells up with gratitude.

“It’s ok. My dad cut me off, but he didn’t  _ cut me off  _ cut me off.” They all send her a confused look. She ignores them. 

It goes like this: there’s this weird, possibly homeless guy at her archery camp, and he’s the only one who can sort of beat her in an archery contest (the score remains uncertain, because  even though they tried that one time, they both insist the other cheated, and they probably both did). And she doesn’t have any money and just the clothes on her back, but she still has her bow and his number (she likes to blow up his phone notifications every time she gets a cool new bow and there’s no one else who will listen to her praise it, which is often, and every time she finds a cool new archery trick, which is every week). And since she’s usually not into creepy forty-something year old dudes who have no one better to talk to than a teenage girl, he’s the only adult she really knows in the area that isn’t her father’s friend/co-worker/archenemy (sometimes all three at once). So she texts him to know if she can maybe possibly stay at his house for a few days, even though she’s not sure he has a house since the only thing he ever told her about it was “it’s a farm” and “the fucking tractor got a  _ fucking _ reactor, fucking Tony”. 

That’s how desperate she is.

Instead, he just texts her back five hours later with “got u a job in nyc. find ur own damn farm. dont talk abt the job 2 anyone its pretty low key”.

So, Kate can’t exactly tell her flatmates that she might have just become member of a drug ring or a weird mafia for people who have cold pizza for breakfast. But she also just got a thousand dollars in cash handed to her by a weird woman wrapped in about a dozen scarfs in the street, so she only moderately regrets her life choices. 

 

***

 

When it’s over, and they’re all done kicking ass and taking names, they regroup in the center of the warehouse and sit cross-legged on the floor to debrief. (Once again: a bad idea, because anyone could find them right now, but once again: teenage boys.)

The men and women around them are all knocked out and tied up, and it’s late in the night. Eli’s mother won’t worry, partly because she trusts him, partly because she has so many other things to deal with she can’t be on top of everything. Apparently, Teddy told his mom he was sleeping over at Billy’s, and vice versa, which is - so  _ gay _ , Eli is still not sure whether or not they’re banging, but he hopes they are because he’s  _ so not here _ for this drama.  

It’s dead quiet here, apart from the sound of cars somewhere else, which is what quiet means in New York. Eli is at the middle of his debrief when it happens.

“Ok so, good job catching me, Asgardian-”

“As if I had a choice,” Billy mumbles. His eye is kind of bruised, so he’s moping. 

“And Hulkling, it’s great that you’d rather yell at the bad guys before trying to knock them down, good communication skills, but _ never do that again when the gun is pointed at you _ , you  _ absolute dumbass _ -”

“I could have taken it!” Teddy insists. They all look doubtful. “Come on, I could have!”

“I don’t care if you could have taken it - which you couldn’t have, just so we’re clear - Billy freaks out whenever you’re in danger - which is something you both need to work on, by the way - and it was dangerous. Billy, stop blushing, we said no drama at the debrief.”

Billy mutters something about him being perfectly chill, and even Teddy sends him a pitying look. Then he clears his throat and says, “Before you continue insulting our combat moves, what do we do with the bodies?”

“They’re not bodies if they’re still alive Billy don’t say it like that oh my Stark-” 

Before Teddy can finish being embarrassed for the other guy, the door of the warehouse is kicked down loudly.

“Kids, I really, really hope you haven’t murdered anyone, because that would be hell in paperwork and Phil and I have a weekend planned.”

Eli stands up so fast his head spins for a minute and - oh fuck, his powers are fading already, he knew he was getting used to the drugs, but not that fast - Billy is already floating slightly, crimson cape billowing behind him, red sparks at his fingertips, like a very dangerous Red Riding Hood, and Teddy is crouched like a feline ready to jump, all big and green, and in front of them, there’s the actual fucking Hawkeye, bow in one hand, arrow aimed at them, ready to shoot. But more importantly, behind Hawkeye, three feet above the ground, there he is -  _ Falcon _ . Eli’s third favorite superhero.

But unlike his teammates, Eli is not a huge nerd, so he doesn’t fanboy for one second and just says, defiantly, “I knew you were jackasses, but arresting people who are just doing  _ your _ dirty job seems low even for you,” because  _ screw them _ , screw these “heroes” who are here to fight aliens and shake the president’s hands and aren’t even able to help kids like him, who grow up in the Bronx with, as only legacy, a pile of unpaid bills and stories of slavery, modern and ancient, and a name that’s not even  _ theirs _ . 

His vision flares red with anger and it must be enhancing the drugs effect as they are snuffed by his body, because he feels like he can see better than ever before. There it is, some kind of clarity he doesn’t get when he’s sober. 

“We’re not here to arrest you, kid,” a voice says behind him, and he knows that voice. 

He turns slowly and here he is. Steve  _ Freaking _ Rogers. 

“Looks like you really took out the big guns on this one, uh?” Eli says, and he wavers a little, but he powers through anyway, because Billy and Teddy look afraid, so if he doesn’t act brave, they’re all lost. “Didn’t think the state would put that much energy to stop vigilantes when we’re the only ones keeping the city safe, but here you go, I guess.”

Hawkeye snorts. “Chill, we’re not exactly talking Daredevil levels here. God, were you that dramatic when you were his age?”

“Nah,” Falcon says. “But to be fair, I was too busy with bird watching club and trying to not look like a bird watching club nerd in front of girls to hunt down criminals at night, so.”

“Bird watching club, seriously?” Billy squeaks, which, ugh, so uncool, Billy, we’re professionals here.

Luckily Captain says, “Guys, give them some slack, they’re trying their best to do something good, even if it’s misguided.” (Eli can practically feel Billy squealing inside his head, and glowers at him. The younger boy throws his hands in the air innocently.)

“Of course you would say that,” Falcon mutters. 

“Not that that’s not… Enlightening, but if we could skip the banter and go straight into how much trouble we’re into, that’d be wayy less stressful,” Teddy says.

Hawkeye smiles. “I like this one. What’s your name?”

“He’s Hulkling,” Eli answers instead. “I’m Patriot, and that’s Asgardian.”

There’s a beat, and then Hawkeye starts giggling. Eli just gives him his best  _ are you serious, dude, do you want me to punch you, cause I will  _ glare, and the guy shakes his head and says, “Sorry, it’s just - a bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

“A bit,” Falcon agrees as he gets back on the ground. They’re lowering their guard. Which might be because they don’t see them as much of a threat - which is fair - but could work out well for them. 

Eli looks at Billy and tries to communicate something with his eyes, like, “you’re the wizard here, be useful for once and get us out of here”. But Billy just raises his eyebrows at him and mouths “what”, because he’s  _ useless, oh my god _ , so Eli snaps his fingers, once, twice, before Billy’s eyes widen in realization and he nods quickly but discreetly. 

He probably understands nothing of what Eli is trying to say. 

They’re so fucked. This team is a disaster and it hasn’t even really started yet. 

“Hey, are these guys trying something? Because I feel like they’re trying something,” Falcon asks, and yep, completely, utterly fucked. 

“They’re not that dumb,” Hawkeye answers coolly, not aware that they are, in fact, that dumb.

“I’m pretty sure they’re exactly that dumb,” Captain says. If it wasn’t about them being dragged to jail, or worse, Eli would think it’s kind of cool how connected him and Captain America are. Not that he thinks Captain America is cool, or anything.

“Mister Captain America, Sir, I can promise you we’re not that dumb,” Teddy says, all earnestness and baby blue eyes and all-American boy scout, which would usually not work with green skin and fangs but this must be his real superpower, because Captain Rogers mellows a little.

“Listen, it’s not that I don’t believe you,” the older man says, “because, well, I don’t really. Tied up mobsters and spandex at two a.m. doesn’t exactly scream to me, yeah, these are kids who are making good life choices. But I can understand that. I can understand wanting to be a good guy. Wanting to help. But you should leave that kind of things to us, alright? We’re trained professionals. And you, Theodore, you’re just a kid.”

Oh, crap.

“Yes, some of us are trained spies, children. Of course we know all of your names, don’t look so surprised,” Hawkeye says.

Oh,  _ crap _ .

“Look, you need to just, stop, alright? You whole gimmick - I mean, it’s cute and all, but this is not all fun and games. You need to get in contact with people who can help you with all of your… What even are your powers?” Falcon asks.

“Super strength,” Eli says, like a liar. 

“Super strength,” Teddy says, also like a liar.

“Uuuh. Electricity?” Billy tries, and fails, to look convincing and sure of himself. Hawkeye’s eyes go from one to the other suspiciously.

“Riiiight,” he says.

“That’s not the point,” Rogers cuts. “Listen, you need to come with us, and we know people who can help you. We are people who can help you. But you  _ need _ to stop - whatever you’re doing right now. It’s not gonna end well. For anyone.”

“If you come with us now, we can help,” Falcon promises. “Rogers is right on that, you do seem like good kids.”

It’s almost an emotional moment, really.

Of course, it’s also when Billy says, “wait, shit, I’ve got it!” and flails his arms around ungracefully, and crimson electricity engulfs them with a loud  _ crack _ before they disappear.

Steve looks dumbfounded at the dark, charred spot on the ground where the teenagers stood just a second ago, then to Clint, who’s in foetal position, frantically taking out his hearing aids, before finally meeting Sam’s eyes. “Well, that could have gone worse.”

“ _ How the fuck could it have gone worse? _ ” Sam answers, so completely done with this Avenger Fail-Safe Programme when it hasn’t even started yet.

“Well, at least I’ve had time to throw the tracker,” Natasha replies as she comes out of the shadows with New York’s very own Jessica Jones.

 

***

 

**The Non-Powered Avengers, thus most badass (and an old man)**

_ Clint is the old man, James Rhodes, Natalie Rushman, Tony Stank _

**Natalie:** there’s been a slight mishap

**Tony Stank:** was it, by any chance, barton’s fault

**Clint is the old man:** shut up, stank

**James:** haha nice

**Natalie:** guys. i’m serious.

**Natalie:** i’m sorry, tony

**Tony Stank:** almost worrying me there, nikita

**Natalie:** we had an opportunity we couldn’t miss in nyc, and we needed the big guns.

**Tony Stank:** so?

**Clint is the old man:** she’s trying to say that steve is coming, shellhead

 

“Tony?” Rhodey calls from the first floor. It’s 3:07 in the morning.

For once, Tony was actually about to sleep. By himself, and not because anyone forced him to, FRIDAY locked him out of the lab or he fell from exhaustion. He even looked up methods to take one of those “power naps” people are all about these days. He would have been able to rub it in Rhodey’s face, talk about how he’s making good life choices because of that one time he rested voluntarily for at least two months. 

That will teach him to try to make healthy habits.

“Tony?” Rhodey calls again, closer now. Tony looks up at the clock, and it’s 3:18 all of a sudden, and he’s aware, dimly, that he’s having a panic attack.

He opens his mouth to speak and it feels like it doesn’t quite belong to him. “FRIDAY, protocol Shower scene.”

“On it, boss,” FRIDAY says, and how did he make his AI so human they can even sound worried? He really is a genius, probably. 

A genius who can’t breathe.

There’s not enough oxygen down here.

He needs to  _ get out of this room _ , it feels like he’s having a heart attack, he knows the feeling, his heart is hammering out of his chest and he keeps thinking that this is it this is how he dies and he knows it’s not real but-

The familiar mask settles on his face as the armor assembles, and the Deep Breathe subprotocol is online, as the screen informs him. It informs him of many other things - “you are experiencing a panic attack. You are not in any risk of a heart attack, as you can see on the image above this text. You are not dying. You are alright,” on loop, like a mantra.

He’s halfway to the floor’s living room (FRIDAY is giving him directions. He’s not all there right now, too out of it to really remember his left from his right, which is a lot, since he built the freaking building. His brain really is messing up this time.) when he feels Rhodey crashing into him. 

“Dude!” Rhodey says. “Why are you in the suit?”

Tony can’t answer, can’t speak right now, can’t even think really, but FRIDAY is such a good girl, talking for him, “this is protocol Shower Scene. The suit is currently regulating Mr Stark’s breathing, as well as completing a health checkup for heart issues. The medium length for a panic attack is of three minutes; according to my calculations, boss should be back to normal in about one minute, thirteen seconds.”

“What the hell,” Rhodey mutters, but he still sits Tony down with him on the couch even if he’s basically a tin man right now, because Rhodey is a good friend. The best, in fact. 

FRIDAY is also good, because one minute later, Tony finds his breathe slowing enough for the mask to pop up and the armor to slowly disassemble itself. Around him, there’s Rhodey sitting on his knees (this is terrible for his protethis, does he have no respect for Tony’s hard work at all?), the plushness of his lavish, luxurious leather couches, where he slept no later than yesterday morning, and that ridiculous Iron Man art he bought a lifetime ago. 

It’s quiet for a minute.

“Well, I think that could have gone worse,” Tony says, and Rhodey snorts, but he goes on, “and we learnt a valuable lesson here, which is that I shouldn’t see Steve Rogers, because it’s literally bad for my heart, so really, an overall fruitful experience.”

“Come on, Tones,” Rhodey says, his voice soft. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“Don’t do what? I’m doing great, thanks for asking, my protocols are genius and actually I should ask Pepper but I’m almost sure this should be saleable-”

“You built a panic attack protocol in your own suit, Jesus, Tony. I mean, at least now I know you’re coping, so that’s always nice, but do you really think that’s the healthiest method?”

“You hang out with Sam too much,” Tony accuses.

“You know I’m right.”

“No I don’t. Look, obviously, the source of everything was Steve, alright, so if you just take Steve out of the equation-”

“Your health is not a fucking equation, Tony-”

“Then why do they teach psychology in grad school, I wonder?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“That’s like asking me not to breathe. Which, funnily enough, I technically did, but, well.”

Rhodey just sighs deeply. He’s searching for his words.

“You didn’t have to open the compound to Steve and the others,” he ends up choosing, carefully.

“I mean, I kind of did, though, didn’t I? What was it again. The fate of the universe lies on me being mostly functional around my ex?”

“So you  _ admit- _ nevermind, not our priority right now. The point is, even if I think it’s a dumbass decision, that’s the one you took.”

“Thanks for the vote of support, honeybear.”

“You can’t avoid him - or all of your issues, basically - forever.”

He can, and he’s planning on it - he’s spent a quarter of his life drunk to avoid dealing with his problems, so you could say he’s got a doctorate in denial. But Tony is not about to tell Rhodey that, so his friend keeps going.

“Look, you’re going to basically raise a bunch of kids with the guy, you’re gonna have to confront him eventually. It’s sooner than predicted, but,” he says, very wisely, because he’s  _ sooo _ wise. “You knew this when you signed up for the fail-safe programme.”

“What? No,” Tony says, and he’s not panicking, even if his heart is hammering in his chest and and his hand is where his arc reactor used to be and he’s gasping for air and FRIDAY is chirping worriedly in his earpiece about the Shower Scene protocol. “Listen. I just can’t see Steve yet.”

“Mmh-hm.”

“I will! I’m not ready. I have only made about a hundred scenarios about talking to him again, and no simulation whatsoever, I mean I started the program with FRIDAY but she was laughing at me even though it’s really not in her programming and why are all of my AIs like this really,” Rhodey keeps humming in agreement, but it’s more alarmed now, “also I’m pretty sure I haven’t taken a shower in 48 hours and I burned that shirt in the tech shop so I just smell like smoke and my hair is a mess, and I’m not even remotely emotionally ready for that, so no, I can’t see Steve and Natasha can’t make me-”

“Hi, Tony,” Steve’s calm, soft voice says behind him, and that’s where Tony loses his shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The after credit scene:
> 
> “eli is a closet anime nerd who pretends he's to busy for futile distractions like this but gets caught by kate watching one piece under his covers at 3 am. he's crying. they all laugh and point now. it's good times”  
> \- my beta Louise, aka the Disaster Gay Icon we need and deserve
> 
> The after after credit scene: 
> 
> “What do you mean, kids?” Bucky says, and wow, Natasha would never have thought she’d think one day “Tony was easier”, but apparently this is how things are now.
> 
> She just has to convince Steve that the Avengers Fail-Safe Program is necessary, is for the greater good, and the rest will follow. Obviously, the kids part isn’t what bothers Steve the most, considering his history. (Bucky, on the other hand...)
> 
> It is, like it always is, the idea that maybe he won’t get to make the calls, that he has to trust the newcomers to eventually take his place. She already gave him the whole speech she made in preparation to his objections, about how they will teach the kids, not only to fight but have a moral compass, how they will not disappear gently into the night when the teenagers are operational but stay and look after them, watch over them, and how the Avengers Fail-Safe Program will eventually be just Avengers, though younger, with more acneic skin and more hormones. Though the hormones part is not so sure considering the team she deals with every single day, she thinks as Steve stares at Tony’s name on the debrief sheet. It’s almost heartbreaking.
> 
> Contrary to popular belief, Natasha Romanoff does have a heart.
> 
> As always, my twitter is @dodieravenclark and my tumblr is @ravenclaw-power-bottom, have fun!!


	3. flipping the bird can unite us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things come together, and others fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know tbh????
> 
> but also my one true love is gabi aka mrsgombember so jot that down

When Sam finds him, he’s sitting on his bed, crouched over his notebook, pointedly ignoring his entrance. 

“Hey, Captain,” Natasha says, softly. Of course, Sam would bring Natasha. “Talk to us.”

Steve doesn’t want to be rude to anyone, least of all Sam and Nat, but he also really doesn’t want to do things like confronting his feelings right now. He doesn’t even want to feel his feelings, if he’s perfectly honest, but apparently he can’t have that, so he’ll settle for moping around in his quarters. (Can you believe Tony kept them perfectly intact yet clean, didn’t even touch them? He hasn’t been around in years. Even when he was with the Avengers, he barely ever slept in this room. 

It’s just so empty. The big, king sized bed with the blue and red sheets that Tony bought as a joke but Steve secretly liked, the scenery framed behind it - something he must have drawn when he was, what, seventeen, for his very first gig at the comic book store, of a man soaring through the skies of the old New York, the one from the thirties, all red cape and small compared to the skyscrapers. He doesn’t even know how Tony found that, only that it was probably ridiculously expensive. It made him feel warm and homesick at the same time when he first saw it. And today as he sees it again - he’s at home here, now.)

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Steve settles for, and he scribbles a bit too hard on his drawing, pen ripping through the paper. 

“Come on, Steve,” Natasha says, then tries a different approach. “You know what Sam has to say about expressing your feelings.”

He does indeed - he has been on the receiving end of the “you should talk about your feelings, Steve. Bottling it all up and hoping it never comes out is unhealthy, Steve. I don’t care if it got you through World War Two, Steve,” speech more times than he could count. 

But it’s not entirely his fault. He wasn’t born in an era where you could just, walk up to someone and talk about your trauma. Damn, for his mother, seeing a therapist was only done if you were sent to the asylum. So could you really blame him?

(“ _ Yes, we can _ ,” Sam insisted. “Now don’t be a jerk and show Wanda a good example, alright?”)

Natasha is still hovering by the door - when it’s not to manipulate someone, she always has a hard time expressing her affection. Sam, on the other hand, is already sitting by Steve’s side, clasping his shoulder - not too much, just a light touch, that anchors Steve’s to the moment, lowers the numbness that usually follows him around.

“I said hello to Tony, and he had a panic attack. I think I’m allowed a bit of, uh, time alone. To  _ process _ ,” Steve tries, parroting something he heard Sam say once.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Sam answers, but he’s smiling a little. Then, he looks pointedly over his shoulder, drawn to the drawing. It’s a cold, frozen landscape, almost peaceful in the white flurry and the quiet if it weren’t for the grey shape of a bunker hidden in the snow. “How’s that processing working for you?”

He doesn’t know how he guesses what this is - but Sam is his best friend, in a way that Bucky just isn’t, because Bucky is something else entirely to Steve (his family, his blood); he’s also a damn good counselor, with that, so Steve shouldn’t be surprised.

“I just… I know we didn’t leave things as well as we could have,” understatement of the century, “and I know we never had time to fix it last year during the whole…”

“Intergalactic space battle to save our friends who turned into sand?” Natasha guesses.

He chuckles. “Yeah, that. I knew it was bad, and I didn’t expect him to have moved on, but I thought…”

He falls silent for a moment, so Sam says it for him. “That since you forgave him for everything that happened back then, whatever it was, you could work it out?”

“Something like that.”

Natasha sighs with him then slides closer. Slowly, as if she was trying not to frighten him, or herself, she puts her head on his shoulder. She’s fresh out of the shower, still somewhat wet, and her hair is all wet and artificial fruitiness. She didn’t put any makeup on, so she looks as tired as she probably feels; her purple hoodie (Clint’s, no doubt) smells like laundry day, feels soft and worn against his arm. In the past few years, it got so easy to be around Natasha and Sam, even when everyone else feels too much, that it’s sort of like breathing.

“You are going to work it out, you know,” she says finally. “You’re both terrible at  _ processing _ , and way too good at denial, but you’re also stubborn, and you care about each other. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if you didn’t.”

He nods and focuses harder on his drawing and not looking up at them, because this is making him  _ feel _ , and this is not what he was trained for. They stay like this for a while, in comforting silence, before Natasha moves again.

“Do you want me to go get James? He’s probably still in the jet.”

“Yes, please.”

She nods and almost walks out of the room before he says, “Wait, Nat?”

She turns around. “Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Natasha Romanoff has many smiles - the sultry one she puts on for her dumbest targets (in the sexy or the murder meaning of the word alike, sometimes both), the reassuring one she struggles to keep on when she’s trying to look at least sixty percent less intimidating and a hundred percent less deadly than she is, the soft, half smile she gets when she doesn’t realize she’s doing it. This is one of the last kind. “You’re welcome, Cap.”

 

***

 

It’s four a.m. when Clint contacts Kate, and this doesn’t even remotely surprise her.

She went to sleep late that night, because Gwen and Glory had a band session, and she wanted to see them “jam”, like the kids say, so she went, and what a mistake that was. She thought Gwen and Glory were surprisingly chill considering the contrast between Gwen’s easygoing snark and Glory’s… Personality… But anyway, she was dead wrong, it’s not that it was going well, it’s that they condensed days of passive aggressiveness into this one single moment.

And MJ. Oh, god,  _ MJ _ . 

So, anyway, after a great deal of shrill yelling and cymbals punching, she only got home with them at one a.m., and it’s not like she’s starting her brand new gig at six tomorrow, wait, she is, her life is a trainwreck when she never did anything wrong to deserve all of this.

So, Clint calls her. 

“I fucking hate you,” she groans into the phone. “And my flatmates too, just so you know.”

“Yeah, well, same here, so get in line.”

She pauses for only a second before saying with concern, “Clint. We talked about this.”

“Look, I have a job for you. You still have your bow, right?”

Of course she has. “Well, actually, I’m not sure exactly-”

“It’s in the bottom drawer of your closet,” Clint says casually.

Kate pauses.

“Have you been watching me? Wait, are you watching me _ right now _ , you  _ perv _ ?”

“What?  _ No!  _ Who do you think I am?”

“You’re like, fifty, and I’m pretty sure I’m your best friend,” Kate observes. 

Clint is silent for a bit while he reconsiders all of his life choices.

“I’m 47,” he finally says. She snorts. “Look, just take your bow and go to the intersection between the 9th and the 59th. From there, try to find somewhere high. I’ll tell you what your target looks like in due time.”

“My  _ what _ ,” Kate says flatly, but he already hung up, because if they have one thing in common, it’s a compulsive need to have the last say.

She weighs her options for a moment - possibly kill someone because of a shady old guy she once saw adopt an old, three-legged dog because the dog could be shot down, don’t you realize, Katie, or go back to sleep and possibly be killed by someone who stuck a knife in his beer from five feet away because he was bored and finding innovative ways to open it. 

It’s a close call, but eventually, she puts on all black, skin-tight clothing (secret mission obliges) and her dark purple (eggplant if you’re going to be picky about purple shades, which Kate is, being kind of an expert) shawl, because she has a brand. 

Clint might be a creepy, possibly murderous guy, but he’s also the biggest dork she knows, and if he’s in trouble, she’s going to help out. And if he is indeed some sort of mob crime lord, somebody is going to have to knock some sense into him, and after he woke her up at four in the goddamn morning, Kate is more than ready to be that person.

 

***

 

“So, are we going to stop?” Teddy asks as soon as they can get back up again.

Turns out, landing after teleportation by a very novice wizard is exactly as pleasant as it sounds like. It takes Teddy a whole minute to manage to move his body, and for normal (well. Mostly) teenagers like Eli and Billy, it’s more around five or ten. He checks up on them, and if he lingers a bit too long holding Billy’s face, then no one can blame him for being concerned with his very platonic friend. He also rummages around for a while; he has no idea where they are, except that it’s completely dark, underground, and metallic. He can barely see the others, and they probably can’t at all.

“ _ Of course not _ ,” Eli hisses as he tries to stand up, leaning on the wall. 

“Alright! Alright. Just checking,” Teddy says. “Where even are we?”

Billy’s voice is weak when he answers, “Lockers at my school,” then adds, louder but sounding a second away from panic, “My powers don’t work. Why are my powers not working?”

Teddy is by his side in a matter of seconds, kneeling down, both hands on the smaller boy’s shoulders. “Hey, it’s alright. You probably just overexerted yourself, right? It’s like some sort of muscle,” he says, going for reassuring. Billy doesn’t completely stop trembling, but he turns towards Teddy instinctively.

Once, Teddy read about sunflowers, how they can’t see, but can always feel where the sun is somehow and turn to face it wherever it moves through the day. He didn’t even remember that he knew that, but it comes back somehow, on the ground next to Billy.

He’s a sap. 

“Do you know where’s the light switch here?” he says instead. He doesn’t mind that much, but it should distract Billy from wherever his mind is going right now, and it works, as his arms relax under his hands and he answers vaguely. Eli rummages some more around until finally they hear a click and the buzz of old, bad quality electric lights coming on. It takes a little more time for them to fully turn on, but they’re not going to be picky at this very moment. 

“So, we’re not gonna stop. What, does that mean we’re gonna fight the  _ Avengers _ ?” Billy asks.

Eli looks at them funnily, and Teddy becomes very conscious that Billy is still basically lying down on his lap with his arms wrapped around his torso, and he helps the other boy up and tries not to blush.

“No,” Eli says finally. “It just means we gotta stay under their radar.”

 

***

 

**AFSP**

_ Clint Barton, Jessica Jones, James Rhodes, Steve Rogers, Natalie Rushman, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson _

**Clint Barton:** So where are the kids now?

**Natalie Rushman:** Still at the school. They should come out in a minute

**Steve Rogers:** I really hope you’re right about this

**Sam Wilson:** We’re about to be in a really, really uncomfortable situation if you aren’t, just saying

**Natalie Rushman:** Who do you think I am

**Natalie Rushman:** And why do you think I’m not prepared for every possibility

**James Barnes:** So you have a backup plan? 

**James Barnes:** Or five?

**Natalie Rushman:** ;)

**Tony Stark:** Please, no foreplay in the public chat, this is making me VERY uncomfortable

**Natalie Rushman:** eyeroll emoji

**Steve Rogers:** Seriously, though, are you sure about this backup plan? 

**Natalie Rushman:** Trust me, I am

**Jessica Jones:** you really shoul dn’t 

**James Rhodes:** and who are you?

**Jessica Jones:** the backup plan

 

***

 

Jessica is in a very uncomfortable position - both literally, since she is currently crouching in a fire escape, and figuratively, as the deadliest woman in America is pissed at her. 

“Jones, are you drunk on me right now?” the Black Widow goes off in her earpiece. (Except she doesn’t go off, because she’s the Black Widow; she just talks in this icy, terrifying low voice, and it’s even worse. Jessica can admire the skill.)

Yes, the Avengers have fucking earpieces, because they’re this kind of superheroes. Last time Jessica teamed up with a bunch of guys in costume, they had to dig through their wallets to pay for McDonalds. (And they all ended up finding excuses to leave the queue until Danny found himself in front of the cashier, taking their order, and having to pay all by himself. “Thank you so much, assholes.” He should have known.)

“I had to ask my ex to protect a bunch of overpowered teenagers with me,” Jessica mutters instead. “Of fucking course I’m drunk.”

Some guy snorts. It sounds like Tony Stark. “Well, buttercup, you’re not that special.” There’s an awkward silence. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Jessica has been on the lookout for five fucking minutes and she already wants to fucking die. Great. 

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that, because honestly, I don’t care about your superhero drama, and I just want to get paid,” she says. 

“You’re one to talk about superhero drama,” Matt says.

“Show me where I fucking asked, I swear to fucking god-”

“Could we do with a little less swearing here?” Captain America calls out.

“Oh my god,” some other guy says, howling with laughter, and that’s it, she’s done, that’s her dose of social interaction for about two months, and she’s taking off this stupid earpiece. The only thing that keeps her, at the very last second, from smashing it with her boot is knowing it’s probably worth even more than her salary.

Fucking Avengers.

She puts it in her pocket instead. She just got her binoculars back on when the girl arrives.

That goddamn kid better not actually shoot the other goddamn kids so Jones doesn’t have to intervene because she’s not paid enough for this.

 

***

 

**The Better Avengers (and an old man)**

_ The Old Man, James Rhodes, Natalie Rushman, Tony Stank _

**James Rhodes:** hey, who’s Jessica Jones?

**Clint Barton:** one of the best PI in NYC, enhanced individual, super strength, kind of vigilante, knows a lot of the kids. she was natasha-tested 

**James Rhodes:** what does natasha tested mean

**Natalie Rushman:** trust me, you don’t want to know

**Natalie Rushman:** as in, you actually don’t want to know, because you’re a military man and there would be a conflict of interest

**James Rhodes:** why am i friends with you all. why did i make these choices

**Clint Barton:** m8 we’re not there yet

**James Rhodes:** i drove you home after the “bonding session” natasha forced us to do when you were so drunk you puked on my shoes, and then you held my face in your hands and said i was the most beautiful man you ever met and you were fucking coulson so that was a lot, and then we ate hangover brunch together

**James Rhodes:** trust me, we’re there yet

**Tony Stank:** wait wait wait clint is fucking coulson??

**Tony Stank:** what the HELL

**Tony Stank:** how did THAT happen

**Natalie Rushman:** good job drawing tony out of his steve rogers depression 

**James Rhodes:** what kind of best friend would i be if i didn’t know how to draw tony out of his steve rogers depression

**Tony Stank:** oh my god i can’t imagine coulson having sex with anyone

**Tony Stank:** wait, nevermind, just did, and it was terrifying

 

***

 

**my bitch**

what now? 

you’re there?

yes

ok here’s the pic

(picture sent)

now you take care of them

that’s ominous

well i’m not paying u to cuddle 

clint

what

they’re kids

clint what did they do??

clint??

 

So, this is getting slightly worrying. But Kate is still optimistic.

It’s probably just a mistake, after all. Firstly, because Clint knows nothing of her… Nightly activities, back home. (It makes it sound like she was getting laid, which is really not what it’s about.

Well, actually, yes, that too, but mostly she just suited up to protect girls coming home drunk or just late. She barely ever broke a sweat, wasn’t even violent most of the time; she just knocked out a few guys, reported them to the police. It’s not like she even had a way to know when pervy guys followed girls, most of the time. There wasn’t exactly a street harassment Bat-signal.

Still. There should be.)

Secondly, because Clint cries in front of The Old Yeller, once asked her to cut his hair, and wears ugly sandals in the city. He’s not a bad guy. He’s not - violent. Actually, he is a bit, but it’s not like  _ that _ . Is it?

There’s noise down the street.

Kate automatically gears up, bow in hands, arrow ready to shoot, kneeling on the roof. It’s a few minutes past five a.m., that time where the day isn’t quite beginning yet, when no busy businessmen and women crowd the streets and the subway, but the night is definitely over, and sunlight is slowly seeping through the skyscrapers. She can see them perfectly in the distance getting out of a high school. A high school. The universe couldn’t be more unsubtle about how young they are.

Not only that, but they look beaten up. One of the guys is limping, and another is holding onto the last one to stand. They’re a weird group too, all dressed up in ill-fitting sweats that make Kate’s inner (and outer) fashionista itch.

Her heart is thrumming against her ribcage and her fingers on her bow. She only has a few seconds to choose, now. 

She makes the right choice, of course. 

 

***

 

Clint likes to show up unexpected. Every time someone squeals in fear and scrambles away from him, he can feel a few years be added to his lifespan. It’s the human blood to his inner prankster vampire.

So when, Tony is in his lab, possibly inventing the next superbot that will save all of their souls but probably just creating another jerk toaster, that’s when Clint taps him on the shoulder and scares him for life. 

“Oh my-FRIDAY, prepare lockdown-,” he shouts out, just as Clint says, “Chill, it’s just me.”

“Oh sure, it’s just you, the guy with too many knives in his boots at all times to go through a metal detector, that’s true, can you show me how that’s reassuring again?”

“Boss, do you want me to activate Home Alone mode?” FRIDAY says, and it feels like she’s laughing. Clint likes her already.

“No, it’s alright, other than I just almost had a heart attack, of course, but what’s new about that,” Tony mumbles.

“Are you really sure, boss?” she insists. Yep, definitely Clint’s favorite robot. (AI. Something?)

Except for that pretty, pretty gun over there on the glass table, all smooth lines and swirls, kind of alien-looking (taking a bit of inspiration from the Guardians, here, aren’t we, Tony, you know what happens when you play with alien toys though). It’s basically inviting him over. 

But Clint is losing track of his goal here.

“What are you doing here anyway? Isn’t it the big night? Shouldn’t you be watching them with Natasha and the- what was it again, the Protector guys or something?” Tony asks, as he already turns his back to keep fiddling with his tablet. Even with all the lab’s lights turned on, the hologram in front of him glows so bright Tony’s face is covered in shifting blue shadows.

“It’s time, Tony,” he says, and it would sound ominous, but he’s currently hanging upside down from the air vent (yes, as Stark told him numerous times in very similar situations, he  _ knew _ it was a mistake putting an air vent in his lab, but Pepper kept talking about silly things like setting his experiments on fire regularly or suffocation due to toxic gas and distracted him from the real dangers in life, nominally Clint). So Clint looks ridiculous, his hair all Jimmy Neutron and veins popping on his head because that’s what happens when you hang from the damn ceiling, really. 

“Time for you to take social skills lessons from Romanoff, maybe?” Tony asks, royally missing the point. Probably on purpose. Tony’s talent for avoidance only equals Steve’s. Even  _ Clint _ is better than this, and he wrote the book on unhealthy coping mechanisms.

“Time to bring out the kid.”

At that, Clint drops down from the vent and a thick silence falls on the room. For a few minutes, the only sounds are the purring and beeps of machinery. Clint lets Tony ride out the sudden surge in anxiety. He knows better than to rush him. 

“I know,” Tony finally says. 

“You can’t make a team of superpowered teens if you don’t call your only experienced superpowered teen.”

“God, I know, Clint, alright?” Tony snaps, then corrects himself. “Sorry. I just mean.”

“It’s ok, man,” Clint says, softly. “I’m a dad. I get it.”

There are many ways in which this isn’t an appropriate comparison - despite all the jokes they make, Tony isn’t actually Spider-Man’s father, and Clint’s kids are energetic little children who only get in trouble in ordinary ways, like when they try to ride the dog as if he was a horse and he enthusiastically complies until they all remember in the worse way that he has three legs and a very poor sense of balance. There are many more in which it’s exactly the right one.

“I just- God, it means exposing his identity. Not to the world or anything but- to the team. To you all, too. It’s not… Safe.”

“Well, he did choose the superhero life, so safety went out the window long ago.”

“It’s not healthy,” Tony bites back. Then sighs. “Yeah, I guess the same applies here too.”

Clint is silent for a bit before he says, not ungently, “How’s he holding up?”

“Like he feels terrible and doesn’t know how to deal with his PTSD, but pretending everything’s fine will fix it.” Tony snorts. It’s humorless. “Guess in some ways he is my kid after all.”

Clint isn’t prepared for heart to hearts: it’s usually Natasha’s job, or Steve’s, since he’s the boss of them and Natasha could talk you into practically anything (and he means  _ anything _ : he once ended up buying a herd of alpacas back in their first shared missions, with no idea how he got to that point and Natasha filming the whole thing and cackling. He had to cry in front of the vendor to return them.  _ Alpacas _ .) He does know some other tricks, though.

“You know what? Let’s get this over with, and then maybe I’ll show you how I beat your ass at Destiny Two every single time.”

“Not every single time,” Tony protests. 

Clint shoots him a disbelieving look. “Every time you don’t hack into the game like a sore loser. And sometimes when  you do, actually.”

Tony rolls his eyes, smiles, remembers what he’s about to do, and finally sighs, defeated.

“Alright. FRIDAY, call the kid.”

“Calling Baby Boss, boss,” FRIDAY says, very dignified. Tony groans like it’s not unusual as Clint starts giggling uncontrollably.

“I should have never given Rhodey the admin passwords”, he complains.

“Man, I really love that guy. Is he like, an official Avenger now? Can we keep him?”

Before Tony can fully express the extent of his disappointment in his teammates and his life, a breathy voice comes on the line, and wow, Clint really forgets how  _ young _ the kid is. Not that much older than his, really, and only, what, three years older than Lang’s, maybe?

(Yes, during their years of being on house arrest, Clint and Scott have bonded over their shared predicament, divorced parenthood, being mostly normal men in a world of enhanced superheroes, and pictures of their respective pets and kids. (Scott’s ant obsession is weird but Clint can get it somehow.) Also, cold pizza. 

No, we don’t talk about it, or refer to it at all, and certainly not call it “a bromance for the age”, no matter what Scott said.) 

“Hi, Mister Stark! Sir! Sorry I took so long to answer, it’s a bit late here - uh, very late actually, where are you right now - so I had to climb out the window so Aunt May and Ned wouldn’t wake up and- I’m so sorry you don’t care about that, are we going to space again?”

The kid’s voice  _ breaks _ when he says space. Holy crap on a stick. No wonder Stark is that messed up.

“No, we’re not going to space,” Tony says. “Hey, what’s Ted doing here, doesn’t he have a home or something? Did Aunt May finally adopt him?”

“It’s Ned - we had, uh. Summer homework to work on?” the kid says, unconvincingly. 

Tony just hums and waits.

“He got the Millenium Falcon Lego set for his birthday,” the kid admits. 

“That’s more like it. Good for Fred. Hey, do you mind coming over the compound tomorrow? There’s some special project I want your opinion on,” Clint can just feel the boy’s pride glowing at the other end of the line, “and, you know, some good old tinkering with the suit.”

“Of course! Uh, actually, I have marching band tryouts, but I can totally ditch-”

“What? No, don’t ditch… Marching band practice…” Tony says, reluctantly, and Clint snickers. “Didn’t you quit that? Wait, no don’t answer, I don’t care that much about marching bands. Just text me tomorrow to tell me when you’re free next week, and we’ll make it work. Wouldn’t want you to  _ not _ get into _ marching band _ . Marching band is  _ such  _ an important part of high school experience.”

“Oh great! Thanks, Mister Stark!”

“Don’t forget to ask permission to that pretty aunt of yours, alright, and get some sleep, what are you doing awake at,” Tony checks his phone, six a.m. on summer break, really.”

“You… You called me…” the kid says, confused, but Tony is already ordering, “FRIDAY, end call.”

“Call ended with Baby Boss, boss,” FRIDAY says, which Clint is pretty sure is very much unnecessary. God, you just love how committed all of Tony’s machines are to mocking him. Just like his flesh friends. (Colleagues? Old allies then enemies due to unfortunate circumstances then allies again due to even more unfortunate circumstances being thrown at them?)

Tony sits down on his work table, squishing some blue and intricate equations which flee to the other side of the screen. It’s funny - where the cold artificial lights hitting half of his face, he looks young, almost like the guy Clint saw on the TV with models under his arms a dozen years ago, but softer than this somehow. Where they don’t, he looks every bit as exhausted as Clint feels. 

Still, Clint forces a smile. “Come on, dude. Destiny Two, yeah? Let’s make this a marathon. I think there’s still some cold pizza in the fridge.”

“How is there even cold pizza leftovers, by the way? We didn’t eat pizza last night. Did you order pizza for one, Clint?” Tony asks.

“Hey, I didn’t come here to be shamed, alright?”

 

***

 

“Hey, nerds!” a voice calls out above them. Obviously, Billy turns around. To be fair, he  _ is _ a nerd.

It’s a girl. That part isn’t surprising, really. The ridiculously big, purple bow on her back, though, that takes Billy aback a little. Oh, and the fact that she’s hanging from a fire escape not two feet away from them.

Of course, Eli doesn’t even look back. “No, we don’t have any money,” he mumbles as he keeps going. The girl looks scandalized.

“Do I look like someone who needs money to you?” 

(No, she doesn’t - Billy doesn’t know much about fashion, but everything about her clothes just screams  _ expensive _ . Compared to that, the disgusting, sweaty, smelly girl yoga pants he stole from the lost and found pile make him feel more inadequate than he usually feels, which is a feat in and of itself.)

“Uh,” Billy says very intelligently. “Eli, I think you might want to check this out, actually.”

At that, at least, Teddy looks at the girl and stops in his tracks. Without having to talk, Billy knows they’re thinking the same thing: if she comes in for a fight, they’ll only last a minute. Weirdos with arrows (why would you choose arrows when guns exist? Sure, there’s the cool factor, but honestly, the Robin Hood vibe is not that alluring) wouldn’t even make them pause, usually. But Billy is exhausted and can physically feel how his magic left his body with that last spell - it’s scary, how fast he got used to the constant spark of energy inside him, the sensation of power and possibilities. Teddy had a hard time shifting back into his human self, and Eli is not even walking straight. They have zero firepower right now.

And she has a fierce glint in her eyes that doesn’t bode well.

Eli finally pays attention to her. “What do you want? We’re not exactly up to sign autograph right now.”

(It’s all bravado to mask how vulnerable they are, Billy thinks. Snarking away at a possible threat when you’re powerless isn’t the best way to deal with anything, but it’s the Eli Bradley way.)

“Are you really going to piss off the girl with the weapon when you look like you just got beaten to a pulp, then microwaved, then beaten up again?” she observes, and Billy shouldn’t, but he likes her already. 

“Oh, no, you got our secret weakness,” Billy says anyway. “It’s arrows. Does that ever work out for you? The arrow thing?”

“Billy,” Teddy warns.

“Wow, you guys really have no self-preservation instinct, do you,” Kate says, and it’s not a question.

“Usually we’re not the ones who need it,” Teddy smiles, affably, but his teeth are sharper than they should be. (Billy only allows himself to be charmed by how badass his friend is for a second before he focuses back on the trash talk.)

The girl finally jumps out of the stairs, and lands with a surprisingly graceful roll. She still has this contemplative expression on her face that Billy can’t fathom as she seizes them up, all slow once-overs and lips turned upwards, but not quite smiling. “What’s you guys’ deal, anyway? Are you like, teenage supervillains? The Little League of Evil, or whatever? Oh, are your parents evil geniuses?”

“Uh, the opposite, actually. We’re heroes. Or, well,” Billy amends. “We’re trying to be, at least.”

The girl hums. “Are you sure? You didn’t, like… Accidentally kill someone?”

Teddy snorts. “What do you think we did?  _ Accidentally _ crashed a building of people instead of evacuating them?”

“Crazier things have happened,” Kate shrugs. “Like, I don’t know, creating a murderbot by mistake.”

“Try to fight the wrong person because you were manipulated by an evil mastermind?” Billy says.

“Turned into a rage monster because you want to prove you’re actually a good scientist and not a fuckup, thank you very much?” Teddy says.

The girl laughs. “Man, the Avengers are bad at their jobs.”

“Yeah, tell us about it,” Teddy says. “Oh - I’m Teddy, by the way. And this is Billy. Nice to meet you.”

“Kate Bishop,” she says. “Oh. Should I have told you my full name? Is that against superhero protocol?”

Eli clears his throat loudly. “Could you please stop becoming friends, it’s freaky, not the right time, and also this chick walks around with a  _ bow _ .”

Kate waves her hand. “Please, Captain Cosplay guy, the people with sense are talking.”

She’s funny and she manages to make Eli turn red and sputter. Billy just really, really wants to keep her. Make her a little crown. Maybe build a shrine. 

But the longer they wait here, in the street, in the open, the more exposed they are, and also the more likely it is that someone will finally walk in this street to go to work and be caffeinated enough to notice the three homeless looking kids and the model. Kate Bishop comes to this realization too, as she says, “Look, this isn’t the place to talk about it, but - I think we really could help each other out. Something about being hired to take you out, and all this drama, and anyway, I’ll tell you about it later, but - are you free this afternoon? We need to talk.”

“No,” Eli says.

“Yes,” Teddy corrects. “Don’t listen to Eli, he’s grumpy because he didn’t take his nap. Please,  _ please _ tell us about the people who want to kill us, that’d be very nice of you.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Kate says.

“No, really!” Teddy insists.

Billy stumbled in a weird dimension filled with ridiculously polite people. These people are his friends now. (And the funny girl who’s possibly a hired gun, possibly a lunatic.) He made his peace with it. It’s not like he had many friends before, anyway. 

 

***

 

**AFSP**

_ Clint Barton, Jessica Jones, James Rhodes, Steve Rogers, Natalie Rushman, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson _

_ Tony Stark added Spiderling _

**Spiderling:** Hi everyone, pleasure to meet all of you, and I’m looking forward to working with you!

**Steve Rogers:** Same here. 

**Sam Wilson:** oh no. not that kid

**Jessica Jones:** ugh

**Spiderling:** Haha that’s funny, funny jokes guys

**Spiderling:** Hey, does anyone know how to change your username on this?

 

***

 

“So, the operation went well,” Steve says. 

Tony isn’t surprised. Of course he isn’t - FRIDAY probably warned him about Steve’s arrival long ago. It’s better this way.

In the reunion room, the computer beeps weakly. The rest of the team - not the Avengers, no, the Avengers Fail-Safe Program, including all of these professionals none of them know, so not a team after all - will join them shortly. It’s weird that Tony should be up here so early. 

It starts as the usual rambling that Steve has come to associate with a nervous, anxious or caffeinated Tony Stark - which means almost every Tony Stark. “Yeah, it did, didn’t it? I mean, I wasn’t watching too close, I was playing games with Clint - completely destroyed me at shooter games, for a change. But I beat him at Mario Kart, so. An eye for an eye. Yeah,” Tony says, his voice progressively dropping. He’s facing his tablet, not looking up.

“You should know better than to play video games with the Hawkeye by now,” Steve jokes.

“I should know better than a lot of things,” Tony bites back. There’s a beat before he sighs and says, “Sorry. That was petty. Trying to work on that.”

There’s a hole in the middle of Steve’s chest where his heart should be. “Yeah, we’re all trying to work on things.”

Earlier, Natasha said something about this; that they were going to work it out, even with both their stubbornness combined. So Steve has to ask. “Do you think we’ll make it?”

“I don’t think it’s the goal,” Tony says slowly. “I think the goal is to make sure they work out even when we don’t.”

Steve pauses. “So you’re just ready to give up then? That’s all? The Invincible Iron Man is done?”

Tony glares harder at his tablet. “What do you want me to  _ do _ , then, Steve? Give you false hope? Lie to you? You would know about that, wouldn’t you?”

At that, all of Steve’s fight goes out of him. He deflates, lowers shoulders he didn’t realize he raised, asks, “We’re not just talking about the team, are we?”

“Honestly, what’s the difference at that point?” Tony says and finally looks up with his trademark mirthless smile. “We all knew that was the risk of this, didn’t we? That if it didn’t work out, it could never impact just us? And we did it anyway.”

“We thought it may be worth it,” Steve says, throat constricted.

“We were selfish,” Tony corrects. 

It’s all the difference. Steve wants to shake this cynicism off Tony because no matter what he thinks, it doesn’t fit him, never did. He never looked more himself than with hopeful smiles in the morning light, despite what he strives to pretend. And maybe if he didn’t always try to see the worst in himself and others - 

In another world, they allow themselves to be soft, and maybe this whole mess is sorted before it even happened. In this one, Steve leaves the room, and then he will sit next to Tony and pull out files, talk numbers and names of strangers with friends and people he never met alike, because if that’s all that they get, then Steve is going to take it for sure. He’s still that hungry kid from Brooklyn always wanting, wanting, never winning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos feed me and people who leave comments on fics are braver than the marines
> 
> also my twitter is @dodieravenclark (and tumblr @ravenclaw-power-bottom) if you ever want to... contact me? ask me questions? cry about amatw?


	4. we’re just young, dumb, and broke (but we still got love to give)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a lot of unresolved sexual tension, Spider-Man gets assigned some friends, and Natasha's use of smileys continues to terrify Tony. Also, there's a plot in here somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! So, yeah, that was an unexpected hiatus. Part of it is because… Life happens and stuff. My internship got much more intense. And after it ended I travelled quite a bit. In places with no data. No WiFi. Only Uno.  
> Part of it is a little “oh no… I’m actually…. TERRIBLE at writing… I played myself” block, but then, idk, I decided to get over myself and stuff, because there’s only one way to get better and it's practice, and also there were such nice comments?? idk. I love everyone who commented on this fic with all of my tiny bi heart. All Of It. Seriously.  
> Anyway, college is starting up again. Who knows how much time I’ll have to write fic? Meh, I’ll probably end up procrastinating all my assignments anyway, so we should be fine.  
> By the way, all chapters name are from songs! This one is from Khalid. Love in America was from… A mediocre song by some guy I don’t remember. Bubblegum bitch is Marina and the diamonds, obviously. Flipping the bird can unite us is a quote about Middle Fingers by MISSIO.  
> Also my betas Louise and Gabi saved my life and I will name all of my children after them and their running commentary on each chapter is funnier than anything I could ever write have a good day  
> 

Sam picks up the phone mechanically, not even checking caller ID. “I swear, Barnes, if you’re lost in the supermarket again, I’m not coming to pick you up this time.”

“Uh, I don’t know who that Barnes guy is, but I’m really hoping it’s not an Avenger, or else I’m kind of worried about the fate of the world.”

Sam recognizes the voice instantly, but he still pauses. “Uh, who are you?”

“Come on, man!” Scott Lang whines on the other line.

 

***

 

**the B in BFF is for bitch**

clint?

nat?

why is sam banging his head against the table

wow….. how rude that you’d just ASSUME it’s my fault

is it though?

NO

you don’t deserve to be my bff anymore

oh no. the tragedy. how shall i  ever survive.

Coulson is my new bff

i’m with him right now he says if you use the phrase bff one more time it’ll be cause for break up and grievous bodily harm

nobody appreciates me in this fucking house

wait, Coulson is here?? i’ll be down in 5

we’re leaving for coffee

you were never invited?

why are you having coffee with my boy toy

reasons?

for real though is sam ok?

if you really wanna know he got a phone call

i can look through his stuff to know who we have to kill?

i like that you don’t even question that we’re ready to kill whoever hurts sam

first of all murder is a great team bonding activity

also sam is made of pure sunshine and kindness and is the only semi-balanced person here i don’t know why he hangs out with us

true

i think as a semi-balanced person he wouldn’t like us going through his phone and we should wait for him to talk to us

sure jan

no clint i’m serious

sure you are

clint tell me you’re not stealing his bag right now

Clint.

 

***

 

From the little Billy gathered of Kate’s personality (which was mostly mocking, biting words and flawless fashion sense), it was completely in character of her to ask them to assemble at an indie coffee shop, because, well. Kate. He can practically feel the non-fat Caramel Macchiato on her breath.

It was a little more surprising to see her sporting a violet apron and a frown.

“Oh thank god you’re here,” she says when she spots them. “I’m on my break, Dave! See you in ten!”

She springs out of the shop as Dave shouts, “it’s David to you and you took your break five minutes ago Kate don’t you dare walk out that door-”

She closes the door behind her, muffling that pesky noise, and bounces up the street as Eli, Teddy and him scramble to follow.

“Alright, so I have to ask. How can you afford all of this,” Teddy waves his hands in the general direction of Kate’s clothes, “on a waitress salary?”

“Oh, my father is rich,” she says offhandedly. “Anyway. How did you get your powers?”

“We’re in the middle of the street,” Eli shout-whispers. “What the hell are you thinking?”

Kate stops, clears her throat, and says, loudly: “I’m not wearing any underwear right now. Also, I’m banging Captain America.”

No one turns around. She smiles in Eli’s direction, satisfied. “This is New York, dumbass. There’s one alien invasion per month. No one cares, and everyone has already seen or heard worse.”

He frowns and buries himself in sullen silence. Billy loves Eli, he really does, but seeing him get outwitted by Kate will never get old.

“The powers just appeared someday. Like, congrats, here’s puberty! You get acne and also lightning, sort of,” Billy says like the conversation wasn’t interrupted.

“I’m born with it,” Teddy says, then adds, “Or maybe it’s Maybelline.”

Everyone groans in dismay. Billy can’t help but beam at him all the while, though, so that still counts as a win for the man who says incredibly lame puns.

God, he can’t believe he’s got a crush on such a dork.

“Alright, so there’s no reason people would wish you dead for that,” Kate says. Eli stays silent, but he fiddles with the hem of his shirt in a very un-Eli like fashion.

“We think it’s because of something that happened to our friend,” Teddy tries.

“Don’t you tell her,” Eli tells Teddy, then Kate, “Why should we trust you? It’s not like you didn’t point an arrow at us the first time we saw you.”

Kate shrugs. “It’s not like I actually shot you, did I?”

“Yeah, Eli, get over it already,” Billy says.

Eli rolls his eyes. “Where are you taking us, by the way? Your secret lair of evil?”

“Oh, do you have a Batcave?” Teddy says a bit too earnestly. “What,” he adds when Billy sends him a look. “She’s rich, isn’t she? It’s _possible_.”

(Dork.)

“I mean, I’m bringing you to my crappy flat that I share with two other girls, but Batcave does sound better,” she says. “And yes, Eli, they’re out for the day. I think. We have a plan to figure out.”

As it turns out, her crappy flat is a few streets away from the café. It’s not really crappy either – just your usual gentrified Brooklyn brownstone, reddish brown bricks clad and six floors high, with a broken elevator and creaky wooden stairs. Billy floats gently up the stairway to the fifth floor because ah, as if he was athletic enough to climb all of _that_. He’s better than he used to be, sure, but he’s not the one with super strength or crazy ninja skills. (He’s not sure what Kate’s power is, still, apart from being able to talk her way out of anything. And being rich.)

Inside, the rooms look every bit like what you’d expect from an apartment owned by three girls in their twenties: a tiny hallway, three bedrooms and a biggish kitchen used as common room, surfaces that are mostly clean, laundry drying in a corner and dishes drying in the sink. There are a few pretty pillows thrown on a couch that was somehow crammed in a corner of said kitchen, with above it a banner for NYU and a poster for an obscure rock band called the Mary Janes.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Kate quotes as she sneaks in and out of the rooms to check that her flatmates really are gone. Billy is boiling water in the kitchen while Teddy puts out mugs and half a dozen different sorts of tea – of the corner of his eye he spots vanilla, earl grey, red, green mint, Russian pearl, and Bruce Banner’s Calming Blend. (Should people really take advice from a guy whose anger issues turn into a big green murderous monster with bulging muscles?)

So Eli is with her, arguing about something or another, when she shrieks.

 

***

 

“Alright, kid, I don’t understand how you can possibly be mad about this.”

Of course he doesn’t. Tony doesn’t understand _anything_.

Or, you know, something that sounds a little less like teenage angst musings that Peter could be thinking instead, since he’s definitely not an angst-riddled teenager anymore.

Well, alright, he is a little angst-riddled, sometimes, but who could blame him? He was trapped in the Soul Stone. For _two years_. And he’s definitely not a teenager anymore.

Alright, technically, if you’re talking about a purely physical level, yes, he is eighteen, but that’s only because you can’t age in the Soul Stone, which totally doesn’t count, so he should be twenty. He is mentally twenty. He might be stuck in high school for his last year but he’s _not_ a damn teenager.

“Because I’m not a child!” Peter finally shouts, his voice breaking embarrassingly. Tony raises an eyebrow. “I’m not! I’m an _Avenger_.”

“There’s no Avengers anymore, kid. We broke up, remember? Like the Beatles? Or One Direction, if you want something a little more relatable-”

It takes all of Peter Parker’s self control to not web the older man’s mouth shut. But since Peter is a responsible adult who can almost legally buy alcohol in the United States (and can totally drink in Europe, by the way) he doesn’t. So Tony keeps going.

“I mean, this is a win-win situation! One. You get a team that has your back. Two. You get to be an Avenger again. Three. You have more training to be the best superhero you can be. Four. You don’t even have to reveal your secret identity, because since most of the team will be minors the government can’t ask for anything, Natasha already dealt with the specifics, you don’t want to know how, trust me.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Peter says. “They’re going to be _kids_. I don’t want to hang out with kids! Or train with them! I’m already a superhero. You’re just trying to bench me again.”

There’s a long pause, where Tony breathes in and out, and Peter starts to get worried. The older man doesn’t usually stay silent for quite as long as this. Before Peter can say anything more, though, he sighs.

“I need a drink,” he says and disappears in the kitchen. Peter is not sure if he’s supposed to follow him, so he stays in the common room, standing in front of the leathery couch he jumped out of when Tony started explaining the project to him. It pains him to admit that it looks comfier now – more lived in. Steve’s drawing notebook lays on the table with pencils neatly organized on top, at the left of a bunch of arrows that are much less tidy; a cup of lukewarm tea is cooling on a coaster, due to Natasha politely leaving to let them argue more intimately; a green, dusty plaid is haphazardly rolled up in a corner of a couch.

“Alright, so, I understand,” Tony says. Peter whips around to see the older man standing on the threshold, with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. (He’s got a firm no-drinking rule around Peter, which he thinks he’s very subtle about. Spoiler alert: he’s not.) “You’re mad because you think I still don’t take you seriously.”

Peter looks at him suspiciously. “Did you just use your kitchen break to take advice from somebody who, you know, actually understands human beings?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony handwaves, which totally confirms he did. “I am _great_ at human beings.”

“You once told me you didn’t get why people cared about their stupid birthdays. It was two weeks after mine. You forgot it. And then you tried to-”

“Yeah, yeah, so I tried to give you a car because I forgot your birthday, it was a perfectly appropriate reaction, and also it’s not like you turned it down-”

“I did! I said, Mr Stark, you shouldn’t have-”

“You were already in the car!” This is true. Aunt May immediately confiscated it, though, so you can’t blame a boy for trying. It was a really, really nice car. “This was by far the most half-assed rebuttal I received in my whole life and trust me, I’ve known a lot of them. When Captain America first met me, he said-”

“Big man in a suit of armor, take that off and what are you,” Peter mimics. “I _know_. You’ve told me that story, like, eight times already!”

Really, a lot of Peter’s issues would be solved if his teammates slash bosses got over themselves and stopped acting like divorced parents who still go on holidays together and bicker all along. Case in point: assembling a team of baby heroes to recreate some weird family fantasy and have an excuse to talk to one another.

(MJ’s words, not his.)

Of course, she and Ned are in college by now, which sucks phenomenally – it’s made slightly better by the fact that they’re only freshmen due to the whole, half the teachers gone, whole education system to remake setback, but it’s still hard. They have a group chat now, the three of them, and regular Skype evenings. It’s not the same as before, it’s not as good as meeting up around Delmar’s Deli-Grocery sandwiches every school day after the bell rings, and it doesn’t make up for years of being apart, but it’s _something_.

On that note, guess who got dusted at the same time as him and is in his senior year now? Flash Thompson, of course, because Thanos is evil like that. So long, escaping his bully and making new friends at Midtown.

Maybe Tony isn’t completely wrong, and Peter is lonely. It doesn’t mean he needs custom-made friends assigned to him, though.)

“Underoos,” Tony says instead of rising to the bait. “It’s not that I underestimate your badassery. Trust me, I wouldn’t dare – oh, stop looking at me like that, I’m serious, I swear! Look, these kids here, they don’t know what the hell they’re in for. They have potential, sure, but they have no technique. No finesse. No emotional maturity either, for sure – if you think the Avengers had team drama, just _wait_ until they’re hormonal highschoolers with daddy issues. I mean, Pepper would argue we already had the daddy issues and hormones, and she did argue that, often, by the way, but anyway, this is way besides the point. What’s the point again? Oh yeah: you’re the only one who has experience with teamwork, and responsibility, and all of that crap Coulson keeps chatting our ears off with. If you don’t lead them, how the hell are they supposed to figure it out?”

Peter is almost convinced. It does seem like more responsibility, and a whole lot of trust in him, too.

“And anyway, if you don’t agree with this,” Tony says, “You’re grounded.”

This time, Peter is not entirely mature enough to stop himself from webbing up Tony’s jaw.

 

***

 

**Mother Russia**

so tony, i hear my insightful tips about the teenage boy psyche weren’t enough

i’m putting him up for adoption

oh yeah may will LOVE that

may? who’s that? i fought thanos. i’m not scared of her

i’m fluent in fifteen languages yet all i hear is bullshit

why are you being so mean and snarky

you’re squatting in my house

i should have you all evicted

you say that like you could get rid of us if you tried

which is, just so you know, false

i have robots

we have clint’s climbing air vents expertise, cap’s puppy eyes, and sam’s everything

and you? what’s your skillset here?

:)

every time you use a smiley face a baby seal dies somewhere

( ˘ ³˘)♥

 

***

 

“Woah woah woah,” the girl says, hands raised. “I think that we, as a collective, should all chill. Pretty please?”

“ _Chill?_ How did you get in here?” Kate says instead.

Billy and Teddy have rushed behind her and Eli at the sound of her surprised scream – which was really undignified and she’s pretty sure as soon as they’re sure to be safe, Eli will never let her live it down – and there’s a soft but definite crackling coming from Billy. It feels like static electricity is filling up her space. It’s very disconcerting, but Eli relaxes somewhat – insofar as Eli can relax – so they’re probably safe.

“The window was open, dummy,” Blonde girl says.

“It was definitely not,” Kate protests, but she is doubting herself as she speaks.

“How did you get up five floors?” Eli asks and yes, it’s a great question, thank you, Eli.

“Hum, the stairs? The fire escape stairs that lead up to her room?”

There’s an awkward beat. Once that’s out of the way, the group of teens doesn’t really know what to ask anymore.

“Who the fuck are you?” Billy finally says.

“God, I thought you’d never ask!” Blonde girl says. She finally gets up from Kate’s bed – where she has been sitting for who knows how long – and beams at them. “I’m Cassie Lang. Ant-Man’s daughter.” She thinks. “Oh, and the Wasp’s daughter-in-law, for a few months now. That’s nice too. Anyway. You can call me Stature.”

***

It’s been one week of the old Avengers working together again, or most of them anyway - Thor and Bruce are still trying to rebuild a home for Asgardians on the other end of the world, Wanda is nowhere to be found, and the others, the ones they lost, weigh heavy on their minds at all times.

It’s been one week and Tony has done a great job avoiding trouble, if by avoiding trouble you mean avoiding Steve. Which is hard when he is _everywhere_ , sitting at their kitchen table in the morning reading the paper or in the evening eating an outrageous amount of Thai takeaway with Sam, Bucky and Natasha, drawing on the designer couch of the common room with furrowed brows and bitten lips, pacing in the meeting room half an hour earlier than the meeting time.

(Alright, so the last one was caught by Tony when watching his camera feed - he wasn’t watching for Steve, alright. Just doing his job as team benefactor. FRIDAY had no right to that judgemental silence. Who programmed her again?)

Tony is doing great, thanks for asking. Peachy, even.

“I’m doing great, Pepper! Peachy. Please stop worrying about me. You’ll give yourself an ulcer if you have to worry every time I do something vaguely self destructive.”

“It’s _literally_ my job, Tony,” she answers, voice slightly fuzzy on the phone’s speakers. (A defect he would just have to fix on Starkphone X. Part of his brain is already working on it even as Pepper talks.) “And if I can’t convince you to not put yourself in harm’s way for your own sake, then I hope I can at least guilt you into doing so.”

“This line of thinking is exactly why Peter says you’re a Slytherin.”

“Duly noted. Slytherin is the best house anyway.”

“Nuh-uh! What the hell? Gryffindor is -“

“You only like them because they’re red and gold and never even read the books, Tony, now stop dodging the question.”

Tony checks the call time. Sixteen minutes. He’s getting better at delaying the inevitable, then. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about again?”

(Historically, playing dumb with Virginia Potts has worked all of zero times; but he keeps hoping someday for a glitch in the matrix to pull it off.)

“If you don’t address a press release about the picture, Tony, I will, and trust me, it will be way less forgiving. Submit it by tonight.”

“Alright, so that deadline is just ridic-”

“Love you, honey!” Pepper singsongs before he hears the distant sound of her flawless fingernails tapping on her Starkphone and the line goes dead.

Tony sighs, deeply, like it can expel all the worry from his chest, and puts his head in his hands. He knew it would happen, of course; most of the estranged Avengers back in the compound, himself disappearing from the public eye for a while working on the initiative, the journalists were bound to get wind of something, anything. They got more and more creative these days too – two months ago he was caught clapping Peter on the shoulder and a “well done, son” slipped past his lips, cue a storm of headlines about his long-lost son being found again and speculations on who would inherit the Stark fortune. (Yes, including the three-pages long Buzzfeed list “Ten Reasons Why Black Widow Is Tony Stark’s Baby Mommy (Number Five Will Convince You!)” complete with more gifs of Tony’s face than he even thought existed.)

(How Tony knows this? Rhodey and Happy had made a game of printing out the most ridiculous and sticking them on his coffee machine for him to discover in the morning. Juiciest contestants to the most ridiculous headline title included:

  *        High Tech’s New Rising Star(k);
  *        The Truth, Stark Naked: Iron Man’s Long Lost Heir;
  *        another dozen of unimaginative Stark puns;
  *        Iron Man’s Iron Baby;
  *        Congratulations: It’s A Stark!;



But Happy unanimously won when he printed out the entire Buzzfeed article “Ten Reasons Why Black Widow Is Tony Stark’s Baby Mommy (Number Five Will Convince You!)”. Number Five in question, after a very convincing explanation of how she had not been seen since the reveal as Number Four, was a photo of herself with her hand splayed across her stomach back from an early Avenger outing. (Peter had been outraged, because how young did they think he was, when Happy had told him; Tony knows this because Happy described the scene in great detail, complete with howling laughter.)

So it was bound to happen eventually. He just hoped it would be one of these random theories that looked like their makers were on crack and not painfully accurate. And god, no photographic evidence would have been nice too.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Tony groans, because of course it’s Steve. Just what he needs. His ex trying to give him relationship advice about his other ex. “Not really paradise. You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Steve smirks at this – well, being mocked by his teammate shouldn’t make him glad, but who’s Tony to judge. “Good to see you be a little more yourself today. Good to see you at all, actually.”

Tony chooses to ignore the dig on his avoidance technique because denial has gotten him this far, after all. “Thanks, you too.”

He opens up the old Starkphone model, intent on figuring out exactly what makes the speakers’ quality so subpar and getting out of this conversation. Of course, Steve “I’m the original punk” Rogers doesn’t care and just sits down at the kitchen table next to him. He leans on his forearms, all muscles and blue eyes, and smiles more softly this time. “I heard talking about it helps, something about healthy coping mechanisms?”

Tony’s throat is dry. He chugs on more coffee. This is not in any way related to any sudden proximity or muscled arms in tank tops. “And where would you get that idea?”

“A buddy of mine won’t shut up about it. Sam something. Apparently he’s a therapist and did psychology studies, whatever the hell that means.”

“Therapist are the worst. _Face your fears_ . _Feel your feelings_. What if I want to fake being fine in peace? This, this right here is why coffee and booze were invented. And religion, if you ask me, but of course you’re going to get all judgemental when it’s just-”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve says. He has no right to say his name like this, with his concerned frown and earnestness and blue blue eyes.

“I’m fine.” Steve raises his eyebrows. “I’m really fine, pinky swear! You know Rhodey. He would never let me get back to my old shenanigans. I swear, he’s like a freakishly strong grandma. And freakishly annoying to boot.”

This convinces him. “Alright. What would he say about that thing with Pepper then?”

Tony considers it for a moment, then grunts and lets his face fall on the table. “Ugh. I don’t even want to think about it.”

Beat. “You know, maybe I could help you out if you told me what this is about. Just a thought.”

Tony groans some more and pushes his tablet towards him so he can see the photo. In a busy New York street, pressed between a decrepit hot dog stand and a family of four eating ice creams whose heads are all blurred for privacy, Steve’s own face stares back at him under dark sunglasses and a baseball cap. (Of course, his face doesn’t get the same courtoisie. Privacy is not one of the human rights the Accords cared much about.)

You can barely see it’s him with the shadows and the pixels, but the resemblance is glaring, and with Sam’s profile, his back half turned to the camera, also hardly recognizable, well, the coincidence is not very believable.

“Who told you a baseball cap and sunglasses were a good disguise, Rogers? Was SHIELD really _this_ useless?” Tony says. “Considering Natasha, I thought they were at least a little good at their job.”

“I’m so sorry,” is all Steve can think to say. Tony raises his head a little to look at him. His eyes are downcast and his jaws tenses up – a nervous tic he can recognize.

“Chill, Boy Scout. It was bound to happen. I should have had a backup plan for this for months. If anything, it’s my fault.”

“How is it- you know what? I’m not even surprised. Look, Tony, this is our mess. We will fix it.”

“It’s not-”

“Would Natasha and Clint have been caught?” Steve cuts him.

“They’re literally the ultimate spies,” Tony protests. “It’s not fair.”

“And I’m Captain America. Nomad. Whatever the kids call it these days. I can take care of myself.”

And on that note, he’s already up and on the threshold of the kitchen’s door, ready to go do whatever it is Captain America does, when he pauses. “Did you tell Pepper? About the initiative.”

Tony snorts. “Hell no.”

“You know, if you had just told her, she would have helped,” Steve says.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony says, and it’s the end of it.

(Tony is exhausted, he is, and frankly quite overwhelmed, but he knows Pepper is too. He knows what she would have done: she would have stayed in her office all week, holed up and on the phone with all the dignitaries she could reach, putting down his fires, as usual. She can’t do that anymore.)

 

***

 

“Alright, so, yesterday night Cassie and I were hanging out-”

“You literally met each other three days ago,” Eli points out, “When she broke into your house. And said she wanted to join our group.”

“And you answered precisely, _I’m sorry, kindergarten is on the other side of the street_ ,” Billy says, with air quotes.

“How the fuck are you already braiding each other’s hair at sleepovers?” Eli finishes.

“Aw, don’t be jealous, Eli,” Kate says, and Eli glares even harder than usual.

“It’s not you who chooses the BFF, the BFF chooses you,” Cassie notes wisely.

“Sure, can’t wait for the matching friendship bracelets,” Eli says and rolls his eyes.

“Joke’s on you, Captain Annoying, ‘cause I already made some,” Cassie says and shows off her wrist where, sure, a purple “Hawkingbirdgirl” is hanging. Eli looks at Kate, and amazingly enough, she did break her careful color code with a yellow “Stature” woven bracelet.

“This is the real deal,” Teddy whispers to Billy, who beams at him. Eli rolls his eyes. It wasn’t even that funny, Billy.

Really, he didn’t expect being a vigilante to involve this much witnessing your teammates pining, yet here he is, and he’s not even sure he should be surprised. Just look at the Avengers.

They’re at Kate’s again, on account of her being the only one with an actual flat. Billy and Teddy still live with their families, Cassie lives in Literal Manic Pixie Dream Girl land, probably (and also with her dad Ant-Man – he’s not sure how he feels about this, because the odds of them being found out got raised by 30% with a superhero daughter, but well), and he’s never letting any of these crazy people in his place. (Also his grandparents live with him. Not that it’s anyone’s business but his.) So Kate’s it is.

Honestly, Eli doesn’t know how this girl still has her job, on account of her never getting any actual work done, from what he’s seen. She let them in in leggings and with her hair tied up, which really brings out her eyes, and all this nonsense Eli isn’t supposed to notice.

“To be really treated seriously by them – the big guys, Avengers and stuff – we need to fight a real villain. That’s how you get into the superhero business,” Cassie explains. She’s standing in front of them – them being Billy, Teddy and Eli, all sitting on Kate’s bed – and waving her hands around a lot.

“So, the big question is: how to pick a good villain?” Kate continues, next to her. “Like, we need to pick a villain we can defeat, or else we look like a fraud. So that means no Kang the Conqueror or Ultron for us, for obvious reasons.”

“But we can’t pick somebody who’s too weak, like White Rabbit or Lady Stilt-Man, because they’re a joke and we’re trying to, you know, not be a joke,” Cassie says.

Kate raises her head. “And by the way, so, gender is fluid and all of this, but Lady Stilt-Man? Really?

“It’s her husband’s name, I think?” Cassie says. “Anyway. We found us a perfect middle ground.”

Kate walks backwards to show them a screen, raising her hands like a show hostess. Of course, the screen is just her MacBook Air propped up on a stool, and there’s five of them, so they all have to squint to see the picture she’s gesturing at. It dissolves into little stars, and Eli comes to the horrifying realization that they made a _PowerPoint_.

“Say hello to Mister Hyde!” Kate says with enthusiasm, and Eli’s blood turns cold in his veins. He glances at the two other guys, who seem just as unenthused. For different reasons than him, obviously.

 

***

 

**AFSP**

_Edward Scissorhands, Clint Barton, Jessica Jones, WARMACHINEROXXX, Iced Americano, Natalie Rushman, Spiderling, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson_

**WARMACHINEROXXX:** I can’t believe you told her

 **Tony Stark:** she’s literally a super spy!! Why do you assume I told her!!

 **Natalie Rushman:** he told me

 **Tony Stark:** and I thought we were friends

 **Clint Barton:** HAHAHAHA

 **Natalie Rushman:** :)

 **WARMACHINEROXXX:** Tony. “iced Americano”? bad pop culture references? This had your handwriting all over it. Don’t insult my intelligence

 **Tony Stark:** you come into my house on the day of my daughter’s wedding and insult my pop culture references??

 **Spiderling:** oh I know this one! It’s from that very old movie the Godfather right?

 **Sam Wilson:** who invited the kindergarten?

 **Natalie Rushman:** I told you all what would happen if you had insufficient password safety and I could crack your accounts

 **Natalie Rushman:** I expected this from the fossils, but you, Rhodes? You’re military. How have you still not leaked government secrets

 **Tony Stark:** me

 **WARMACHINEROXXX:** why do you think I still tolerate Tony in my life

 **Tony Stark:** wow… words hurt

 **Iced Americano:** sticks and stones, tony

 **Spiderling:** uh

 **Tony Stark:** has anyone introduced Cap to Rihanna yet?

 **Jessica Jones:** I quit

 

***

 

This is extremely uncomfortable, and Teddy hates uncomfortable. (The situation, not Kate’s bed. Kate’s bed is really soft, actually, or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation from patrols; in any case, Teddy sort of wants to take a nap right here, head resting on Billy’s shoulder.) He’s a shapeshifter: it’s in his genes to try to be whatever the person in front of him wants him to be, and awkwardness is a pretty clear sign that he failed at that.

Cassie and Kate grin at them, then falter at their lack of reaction. Eli and the guys look at each other awkwardly, until Teddy raises a hand shyly. “Hum, sorry, this sounds very cool and all, but what about Nate?”

Eli nods. “Yeah, while I’m all up to become a superhero or whatever, this whole thing here is about him. I don’t see how this is going to help us find him.”

Cassie and Kate exchange a look, and Billy’s hand rubs Teddy’s elbow. It’s weird that Eli of all people would be the one to support him, when he’s never even met Nate, and for a second Teddy entertains the thought that he’s doing it just to butt off against Kate, but he discards it immediately. The other boy’s brows are furrowed and his jaw is locked, but his eyes are clear and open in that way that is typically Elijah’s when he stands for what he believes is right. Be it kicking a policeman’s butt because he was reported to threaten innocent teenage black girls or helping out a friend of a friend who disappeared. In that instant, Teddy is just so grateful for him.

“Well,” Kate starts slowly. “I think everyone of us can agree that we are kind of out of depth here. About Nate, I mean. And having some of the Avengers’ insights and means could really, really help us out on this one, couldn’t it?”

“Well,” Eli mimics. “It sort of sounds like you’re not really concerned about his fate and just working for your own goal here.” Cassie gasps softly. “What, I’m just saying what everyone else here is thinking!”

“He’s not wrong,” Billy says.

“We never said we’d stop looking for your friend!” Cassie pipes up. “We can totally do both. Can’t we?”

“Why would you? You don’t even know him,” Billy insists.

“Or us, really,” Eli says.

“This is what heroes do,” Kate points out. “Help people. Even if they don’t know them. It’s like Avengers 101.”

There’s still tension in the room when Cassie bites back, “Well, would you rather we help you, or you keep doing whatever you were doing before anyway?” And there’s that. It’s enough for now, but Teddy just knows it’s not going to be the case for long.

 

***

 

Dwayne’s body is thrumming with anticipation when he sits down on the retractable chairs laid out for journalists from all over New York in the Avengers Tower.

(Or is it Stark Tower now? Superheroes drama is always so confusing. It is interesting that they would pick the tower over the compound – his theory is, it’s either to choose a more neutral place or to appeal to people’s nostalgia over the early Avengers days, when it felt like everything was possible. Before Sokovia and the Wakandan victims’ diplomatic incident and people realizing that just because everything is possible in this era doesn’t mean they can do anything about it.)

It’s his first serious assignment of this breadth, and even if it’s just writing down all he can so his superior has her hands free to ask questions, it’s still a huge deal to him.

Stark Industries’ press release went up a few hours ago, the usual inconclusive answer that doesn’t actually answer anything. These pictures were the first CEO Potts ever heard of the ex-Avengers presence in the country, but in any case, SI wishes to remind everyone that as retired Avengers who have not been found to do any illegal superheroing around ever since the Snap, this is entirely legal. And so she’s assured that if they really are here, it’s carrying good intentions and ready to comply to necessary measures, as retired heroes and normal citizens.

“We know the press release was bullshit, right?” Dwayne tells his superior, who doesn’t dignify her intern with an answer.

The room is huge, roof curved and metallic over their heads, with a blinding light in the middle, like an iron sky. He’s pretty sure the retractable lawn chairs installed were made to be as uncomfortable as possible so that journalists don’t want to linger any more than necessary. Sounds like something Stark would do.

“It’s your first Stark speech, isn’t it?” she asks him, and then says without waiting for his reply, in her usual drawl, “You’ll see. He really is something.”

Dwayne wants to inquire further about what Stark is, but the lights dim and the last journalists hurry into place with varying levels of success. Everyone turns on their recording device of choice, and two figures in perfectly tailored costumes walk on stage, one way too tall to be Stark and the other way too curvy, and alright, that was unexpected.

“Good evening everyone,” Steve Rogers says in the mike.

(His voice is low and sounds like honey. Dwayne tries hard not to question his sexuality at an Avengers press conference.)

 

***

 

“Alright alright alright,” Cassie says before she takes another bite of pizza and munches pensively. They wait for a follow up that never comes.

“Alright what?” Eli says aggressively.

“This is a lot to take in at once, alright? Let us think,” she says while nibbling on her Hawaiian pizza.

When Kate’s roommates came back home – and were so surprised at her sitting here with a bunch of friends it was sort of insulting – they moved to a cheap restaurant around the corner that was filled with other broke youths wolfing down pounds of greasy, delightful pizza. They blend in, seem just like everyone else here – with her natural aura of cool, Kate looks as if Elle Woods was somebody’s stylish big sister, sitting next to Cassie and judging her deplorable taste in pizza with her raised eyebrows. The younger girl – she finally admitted that she’s really fourteen – is eating like she was raised by wolves, and there’s already BBQ sauce stains on her yellow dress. Eli is on Kate’s other side, his shirt’s collar is rumpled (Teddy can’t believe he’s wearing a shirt – this is what unresolved sexual tension does to a person) and they regularly try to steal each other’s garlic bread and bicker.

Teddy’s arm is spread around the back of Billy’s chair and his body tingles whenever it touches the bare skin of his neck. It is ridiculous, and more than a little pathetic. Ridiculous and a little pathetic – this is what they should carve on Teddy’s grave. It’s all he deserves.

He was so close to telling Billy that evening in July. It was the perfect moment. Ever since then they’ve almost never been alone, and, even if he’s starting to like this mismatched band of misfits (and suspects that, though none of the others realize it yet, they’re starting to like each other too) he misses that.

“So,” Cassie finally settles. “This is probably a stupid idea and just about the first thing you did and all, but did you consider breaking into his place to look through his stuff?”

Beat.

“I vote we keep her on the team,” Teddy says and leans further on Billy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The post credit scene:
> 
> The coffeeshop is a quiet, distinguished place, one of those who serve cupcakes with delicate frosting and cups of exotic tea. Natasha is currently sipping an Arabic jasmine, golden violet and rooibos tea as her coffee partner eats a very pink cake very conscientiously. She puts down her mug and leans on her forearms.  
> “The Avengers were a mistake,” Natasha says gravely while looking deep in Phil Coulson’s eyes.  
> Next to her arm, her phone is lit up with notifications from Sam and Clint, who are really, really gleeful about making Cap and Bucky watch Mamma Mia. Half of them are song lyrics in all-caps. The other half describes Colin Firth and Colin Firth only.  
> Coulson’s haunted stare meets hers. “It’s a hard job, but we’re the only ones who can do it.”
> 
> My twitter @ is dodieravenclark and my tumblr is @ravenclaw-power-bottom, by the bi


End file.
